


Foxhole Tidbits

by SpangleBangle



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Multiple kinks, Neurodiversity, Tumblr Prompt, Warnings and triggers in each chapter, multiple AUs, shortform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 38,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9229031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpangleBangle/pseuds/SpangleBangle
Summary: A collection of tumblr prompts or short-form andreil/general foxes things I've done and wanted in one place :) Multiple AUs and settings, explained in each chapter.





	1. "Did I Say That Out Loud?"

Post-canon, moderate nsfw talk. Original found [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/152819255983/did-i-say-that-out-loud-and-neilandrew-ofc-if) :)

* * *

 

“Kevin, would you give it a rest,” Neil groaned from his spot at centre court, leaning heavily on his racquet as his whole body trembled.

Kevin affected to ignore him and took another shot that Andrew lunged for, smacking it away up the court.

“It’s nearly four AM,” Neil continued. “We’ll be too exhausted to play the damn match later at this rate.”

“We’re not good enough,” Kevin snapped back, and took another shot that went wide. Andrew didn’t bother going for it, knowing immediately it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Andrew, can you back me up here? How come your arms aren’t blown out yet?” Neil sighed.

Andrew glanced at him, then shoved off his helmet. “Kevin, let’s go.”

“You saint,” Neil grinned tiredly at him as they all pitched in towards clearing the court.

“I just can’t stand your whining,” Andrew disagreed, and poked him with his racquet when they filed into the locker room.

Neil yawned and started shucking off his gear; over the past two years, he’d gotten used to changing out in front of these two at least, though the rest of the team still made him twitchy. Kevin barely blinked at his scars anymore, and Andrew knew them much more intimately.

“It’s cool that you’re enthusiastic,” Neil smiled sleepily as he stepped into the shower. Andrew grunted and took the stall next to him, Kevin on his other side. “I’m a fan.”

“Shut up, Neil,” Andrew said, and switched his water on.

“Are we going to Columbia after the game?” Kevin asked Andrew over the top of the stall.

“Yes.”

Kevin made a vague noise of approval and Neil grinned to himself; he felt wonderfully tired and sore, in the way he loved about Exy and late practices, though his brain felt more than a bit disconnected. His thoughts drifted pleasantly, lulled by the steam and hot water. He thought back to their last trip to Columbia and revelled the burn to his cheeks as the perfunctory brush of his own hands over his hips and ass awakened other memories.

 _I really hope Andrew wants to fuck me again if we win,_ he thought dazedly.

Kevin suddenly swore and smacked his hand on the stall wall. “ _Really_? I am right here!” He said in an exasperated tone.

“You okay, Kevin?” Neil asked with a yawn.

Kevin made a noise like an angry cat. Andrew was suspiciously silent.

“Wait…” Neil frowned, his brain ticking slowly along. “Did I – did I say that out loud?”

“Oh yes,” Andrew muttered, only just audible over the hiss of the water.

“Oh.” Neil bit his lip, not knowing whether to feel mortified or not. He suspected he was far too sleepy to be feeling as embarrassed as he should. He figured he might as well go for it and ignored the burn to his face. “So – how about it, Andrew?”

Kevin swore again and stormed out of the showers in a huff, muttering under his breath about privacy and common courtesy. Andrew didn’t reply until they’d both finished washing and stepped out of the stalls. He fixed Neil with his usual intense gaze, then slowly reached around to grab Neil’s ass over the towel around his hips.

“Don’t push your luck, and maybe,” he murmured.

Neil grinned and dipped his head to kiss away a bead of water rolling down Andrew’s neck, prompting another hard squeeze. He grinned and blissfully ignored Kevin’s irate yelling from the locker room.


	2. "Is That My Shirt?"

Post-canon, several years later, on the same team at last. Original found [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/152824918813/is-that-my-shirt-for-andreil). Fluff. 

* * *

 

“Hang on, get back here,” Neil laughed, leaning forward just enough to tug at Andrew’s sleeve. “You can’t leave after saying something like that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Andrew replied blankly, though he sat down on the couch again with a long-suffering sigh.

“ _You_ just offered to take me out for dinner, Mr Minyard,” Neil reminded him.

“What of it?”

Neither were fooled by his apathetic tone.

“Like a date night,” Neil prodded, trying to contain his grin. “A proper date night.”

“Shut up.”

Neil murmured a quick question, then eased into Andrew’s lap at his affirmation. Andrew rested his hands on Neil’s thighs and gave him a bored look even as his thumbs and fingertips pressed in firmly, working little circles into the bare skin revealed by his running shorts. Neil looped his arms around Andrew’s shoulders and let his forehead drop against Andrew’s.

“Does this have anything to do with the date?” Neil asked quietly.

“No,” Andrew insisted, and proceeded to kiss him silly. The gold ring on his third finger pressed warmly into Neil’s thigh.

Andrew grimaced when he got home later that night, far later than intended. Their apartment was dark and cold, and the cats immediately rushed to twine around his feet, protesting at being shut out of the bedroom. He put up with their pathetic attitude for a moment, pacifying them each with a quick pat, before tossing his bag onto the couch and heading to the bedroom.

It was dark in there as well, though there was a familiar lump under the covers. Neil didn’t react to his entrance, though Andrew knew the sound of the door would have woken him if he was asleep and not just sulking. Andrew stripped down to his sleepwear and sat on the bed by Neil. Neil blinked crossly up at him, somehow, and said nothing. Andrew reached out to rest his hand on Neil’s hip over the covers.

“I said I was sorry, earlier,” Andrew said.

Neil continued to give him the silent treatment.

“Sam was about to relapse,” Andrew continued. “I couldn’t leave him in that state.”

Neil sighed, and reached a hand out to cover Andrew’s. “I know. I _know_. I’m glad you could help him, I really am. I was just – okay. It’s petty. But I was really looking forward to that dinner.”

“I know,” Andrew murmured back and laced their hands together, rings clinking against each other familiarly. “I’ll take you out tomorrow.”

Neil sighed again. Andrew knew what he meant by that – it wouldn’t be quite the same as their actual anniversary. “Come to bed,” Neil said instead of any further protest. It was done now, and nothing more to be said. Dinner would still be nice. They would still enjoy it. Time to move on.

Andrew eased under the covers at his back and wrapped an arm around Neil’s waist. Neil hummed quietly and rested back against him, curled up and held close. Andrew moved his hand lightly over Neil’s stomach and chest until Neil sighed again, a much happier tone. Andrew pressed a kiss into the nape of Neil’s neck. Then he plucked at the shirt Neil was wearing, having traced the embossed lettering on the front, something distinctly like ‘Minyard’ in block capitals.

“Is that my shirt?”

“No,” Neil replied, obviously lying.

Andrew moved his hand up to the shoulder seams and tugged at them. “Funny, this is way too broad for you.”

“I missed you,” Neil muttered. “I was upset.”

That gave Andrew pause; Neil only stole his clothes when he was feeling jittery, the old urges to run away the stress still lingering through the years. Andrew had known he’d take the missed date hard, but he hadn’t thought it would affect him that much. He pressed his hand firmly into Neil’s stomach, holding his core, and kissed over the back of his neck.

“Tomorrow,” he promised quietly. “Dinner at that little Italian place. A movie and ice cream with the cats after. And we’ll have the night to ourselves.”

Neil hummed quietly, then shifted to rest back further against Andrew. “Tomorrow,” he agreed sleepily.


	3. "I Can't Do This Without You"

Post-canon but only a year. Original found [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/152826125018/i-cant-do-this-without-you-andreil). Mild hurt/comfort.

* * *

 

“Come on, you fuck-face!” Neil yelled as he was checked into the plexiglass for the eighteenth time that night. He shoved his mark off him with a snarl and kept moving. “Come on then, you shite-for-brains mother _fucker_!”

He had the guy’s face on the end of his fist before he made any conscious decision to punch him or even aim away from the helmet, but his blood was on fire and he had finally reached the end of his temper. The guy yelled a curse and went for him as well, throwing aside his racquet and going for his fists as well. Neil couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood in his ears but he knew he was shouting obscenities and trying his best to pummel the goon. There were hands yanking at him, trying to split them apart, but he fought them just as viciously, elbows flying.

“ _Abram_ ,” A voice yelled close by. Neil snapped to stillness just in time to get a punch to the ribs. The rest of the team took advantage of his temporary stasis to pull him away from his opponent.

Kevin was yelling something in his face, incensed at the potential yellow card about to be handed to him, but Neil tuned him out. The rage was still burning white-hot under his skin and if Kevin didn’t shove it, it would be a red card soon enough. Then he spotted Andrew jogging out of goal, looking unruffled and calm as always. The others let him through and he rested a clumsy, gloved hand on his neck.

“What’s your problem?” Andrew asked steadily.

Neil did his best to calm down, taking shaking breaths. “The date,” he managed. “Baltimore. I’m _not_ gonna be manhandled around, not today. Not fucking today.”

“Have a breakdown later,” Andrew advised him, apparently uncaring, but Neil felt the firm weight of his hand, and another pressed to his chest. “Don’t let it taint your precious court and stickball. I can close the goal, but there’s still the point gap. We can’t win without you. You have to be out here too – I can’t do this without you. So get a grip, Abram.”

He gave Neil a light shake, and Neil felt himself smile. He lightly knocked his helmet against Andrew’s and nodded.

“Didn’t know you cared so much about _stickball_ ,” Neil replied.

“You haven’t gone after someone before, it’s kind of interesting. Though your right hook needs work, dumbass.”

“Teach me later?”

“For what?”

Neil gave him a quick look. “Three pints of ice cream.”

Andrew snorted quietly and knocked his helmet back, then let go of him. “I’m going back to goal now, unless you’re gonna start biting people.”

“Not just yet,” Neil said brightly, then turned to the fuming referees to make his apologies and wheedle his way out of getting carded. They reluctantly accepted his excuse of being provoked from the constant physicality, but warned him that if he put so much as a toe out of line for the rest of the game, it would be a red card regardless. He nodded meekly and got back in position.

He met Andrew’s eye briefly as he walked. Neil raised his racquet in acknowledgement, and Andrew gave his two-finger salute. Time to destroy these bullies.


	4. "Did They Hurt You?"

Post-canon in the pro leagues when living together. Original found [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/152827142303/and-one-more-angsty-one-bc-i-couldnt-resist-tbh). Emotional hurt/comfort.

* * *

 

The bodyguard dropped Neil off outside his apartment block, which was more than a little chilling. He stepped out of the sleek limousine without a word and stumbled inside, feeling ill. Andrew was on his feet and pressing him back against the wall in a second.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked in a quietly furious voice, eyes burning.

“No, no,” Neil said shakily. “I’m alright.”

Andrew clearly didn’t believe him, and pressed urgent kisses to his mouth even as his hands pressed and smoothed over his torso, checking for injuries.

“Really, I’m alright,” Neil tried again between kisses, though he needed them just as badly as Andrew did. “They just wanted to talk.”

“Bullshit,” Andrew muttered and gripped his hips tightly.

“I’m okay,” Neil said. He looped his arms around Andrew’s shoulders and tried to steady himself. “Scared as shit, but I’m okay.”

Andrew made some kind of frustrated noise and busied himself finding Neil’s mouth. They kissed with a breathless urgency, needing the reassurance and frantic heat to calm their wildly-beating hearts. Neil relished the scrape of Andrew’s stubble against his chin and wound his fingers into his hair with relief.

“What did Ichirou want?” Andrew asked eventually.

“A new sponsorship deal,” Neil rested his head into the crook of Andrew’s neck. “New terms. They want more money from that stuff, seeing as my performance is dropping.”

Andrew held him tightly, knowing the terror he’d been living with since picking up a nasty ankle sprain the previous year that he still hadn’t fully recovered from, and how it was affecting his stats this season.

“You’re still worth millions to them in endorsements and sponsorship,” Andrew assured him, quiet and strong and fierce. “There’s the coaching, and commentary stuff as well. They’re _not_ going to kill you.”

Neil shuddered and muffled a sob into his shoulder. Andrew tugged him into the living room and pushed him onto the couch. He pulled Neil into his chest and held him close as he trembled. The cats jumped up and nudged their cold little noses up against Neil’s hands and legs, meowing pitifully.

“I’ve got you,” Andrew said tightly. “I’ve got you, Neil. You’re safe.”


	5. "You're Mine, And I Don't Share"

Post-canon but still at Palmetto State. Original found [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/152832396418/if-youre-still-taking-prompts-youre-mine-and). No warnings :)

* * *

 

Andrew was deeply regretting his decision to allow Nicky to drag them out to a gay bar instead of Eden’s. Probably not as much as Aaron was for blindly agreeing to go without checking the actual type of club, but he reckoned it was pretty close.

“No,” Andrew said firmly, and shoved his way past a particularly broad and hairy man who was attempting to back him into a corner. He heard the man calling out compliments on his arms and ass as he walked away, and just about restrained himself from going back and punching the guy. Andrew was aware he could be categorised as more of a bearcub than anything else, but he didn’t have to like it. He fought his way through to where Kevin was nervously drinking at the bar, eyes wide.

“Having fun?” Andrew drawled, ordering a shot for himself.

“When are we leaving?” Kevin asked instead, jumping as someone came up on his other side and put a hand on his arm with a wide smile.

Andrew rolled his eyes and downed his shot, ignoring the smile of the bartender. “Where’s Neil?” He asked over the pounding drum and bass; Neil had been glued to Kevin’s side ever since they got here.

“He went off with Nicky, that way,” Kevin replied with a vague gesture.

“Aaron?”

“Same, I think.”

“I’m going after them. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Kevin raised his fresh glass of vodka rocks in reply and Andrew pushed off through the crowd again in search of the rest of his pack. He really wasn’t having a great time, with all the bodies and hands flying about, but it was no worse than working at Eden’s had been. He was more concerned with whatever schemes Nicky was undoubtedly trying to execute; he and Erik had agreed to a temporary separation last month, and Nicky was still reeling. That was really the only reason Andrew had agreed to this particular night out; in his opinion, some mindless hook-up was just what Nicky needed to get his mind off things. Roland had offered, but Nicky had freaked out, saying they were practically family and it would be weird.

Andrew spotted them at last, cursing his height for a moment – they were snug in the middle of the dancefloor, bodies all around. He was surprised Neil had agreed to being surrounded like that, and indeed saw the tense set to his shoulders, but knew Neil had probably chosen to stay with Nicky and Aaron, people he knew at least, while Andrew had gone to the bathroom. And, oh joy, Nicky was grinding up against some beefy guy also covered in glitter with a wide smile that didn’t quite hide his pain. Aaron was looking disgusted and just trying to thrash to the music in peace. Neil was bobbing around nearby, looking uncomfortable and lost.

Andrew used his elbows a bit more viciously, hating the way he was being tossed about and diverted from his goal by all the dancing idiots. He watched as some charmer with long hair and tight jeans sidled up to Neil, leaning in to talk in his ear and put hands in his hair, a smug look on his face. Andrew fought harder through the crowd, but he didn’t need to. Neil shook his head, shoved the guy away firmly, and edged closer to Aaron. Longhair looked annoyed for a second, then shrugged and joined the party by Nicky. Andrew finally got free of the tangle of bodies and stood in front of his idiot, who looked relieved to see him.

“Thought I’d need my knives there,” Andrew said darkly, his eyes on Longhair.

“I told you I could fight my own battles,” Neil replied with a smile. “I can look after myself.”

“I know,” Andrew replied, then reached out to hold Neil’s hips. Neil grinned and stepped in close, running his hands up Andrew’s arms to his shoulders. Neil’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and Andrew knew very well what he wanted. He tilted his head in wordless invitation, so Neil leant down for a kiss. Andrew held him tight as they kissed, though he made sure to stare Longhair down over Neil’s shoulder. He pulled on Neil’s lower lip, his hands sliding around to slip into Neil’s back pockets.

Longhair shrugged, though he did look just a bit envious. Andrew kissed Neil again firmly, determined to make something good out of this mess of a night.

“You don’t need to do that, you know,” Neil murmured into his neck. “I know you’re watching that guy. You know I only want you.”

“I know. But you’re mine, and I don’t share.” Andrew replied. “If he doesn’t stop watching us, I’m going to punch him.”

“Maybe stop staring at him then,” Neil grinned and kissed his neck. “Mixed signals. Now come on, let’s dance.”

Andrew very much did _not_ want to dance, especially to music as shitty as was playing, but Neil’s hips were swaying against his and he was pressed close, so close. Andrew thought he could put up with the music for that.


	6. "Fuck, I Think I Caught Feelings"

Time for some Matt and Dan love! Pre-canon, just after Matt's stint in rehab, the monsters' first year. Original found [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/152833846988/ooh-fuck-i-think-i-caught-feelings-with-dan). No warnings :)

* * *

 

 _Damn_ , Matt thought as he watched the captain lift a truly impressive amount, her biceps flexing with hard muscle as she curled the weights towards her chin, one arm at a time, then release in a smooth, controlled arc. He watched as her frown of concentration eased into a smile of satisfaction, and sweat beaded on her forehead.

He tore his eyes away with difficulty and told himself to focus on his cross-trainer, on building up his cardio stamina. She’d made it clear on several occasions that she was not interested in any of her team mates, and trying would just send you flying with your ears smarting from her put-downs. So Matt hadn’t said anything to her about his little crush, just did his best on the court to earn her reluctant approval. He didn’t really think he’d earned it yet. Maybe a bit of grudging respect for his ability, though she still chewed him out on his footwork with embarrassing regularity.

It just made him want to work harder, honestly.

Nicky took the machine next to him and they exchanged cautious nods; things with the monsters had been… oddly civil, the past few weeks since he got back from rehab. The deadlier twin seemed content to leave him alone now his point had been made, the more apathetic one only bothering to talk when they were on the defenseline. Nicky was friendly, at least, though it was clear where his loyalties lay. He put it out of his mind and focussed on his workout, annoyed at how withdrawal and recovery had cost him so much of his wind and muscle.

“Pick up the pace, Boyd,” Wilds called as she passed. “No slacking.”

“Yes Captain,” Matt grinned at her over his shoulder and increased his efforts. She watched him for a moment, all darkly intent eyes and sweat-damp cropped hair, then twitched a small smile.

Matt felt his grin widen and he turned back to his machine before he managed to ruin the moment by falling flat on his face.

Practice was tense that afternoon; the guys in the years above Matt were being their typical asshole selves; refusing to follow orders, plays or basically do anything except be aggravating shitheads. Matt watched as Wilds tore them all apart with her whip-smart tongue and quick fists when necessary, eyes flashing. He thought she was doing amazingly, all things considered, but it annoyed him that she was having to do so much. So, when Addams started mouthing off about her probably being on her period, Matt stepped in with a neat jab to his kidneys that had him groaning on the floor in a second.

“Stow that shit,” Matt told him, standing over him threateningly. “Respect your fucking Captain’s orders.”

“I don’t need your help,” Wilds said with a cold fury. Her fists were clenched by her sides and there was a truly terrifying look to her, sweaty and dressed in orange and all. “ _I’m_ the captain of this godforsaken team, I can handle this on my own.”

“I know,” Matt replied. “And believe me, I respect that. But you’re not out here all on your own either, Wilds.”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a minute while Addams clutched at himself in pain. Matt stood still and as inoffensive as possible while she thought. He was anticipating getting the emotional stuffing torn out of him, but after some time she simply gave him a small nod and walked away to yell at Gordon for being an asshat.

When practice was over and they were all washed up, she actually came up to talk to him while he checked his truck’s engine; it had made some worrying noises on the drive over earlier.

“I meant what I said,” She stated, arms folded. “I don’t need anybody’s help managing this team.”

“No, but I don’t mind lending a hand. You don’t have to take all of them on at once, and Addams deserved it with that bullshit anyway.”

She watched him for a while and he tried not to sweat nervously under her intense gaze. She cleared her throat.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Matt smiled at her and wiped his oily hands on his jeans. She narrowed her eyes at him again for a moment, fierce as ever, then slowly smiled back. It made her whole face light up and Matt had to catch his breath.

“You ain’t bad, Boyd,” She said with a slight twist to her lips. She punched his shoulder jocularly and walked away to talk with the other girls. Matt watched her go, feeling more than stunned at her faint approval. His heart was in his throat and he knew he probably looked a right moron standing there, but he couldn’t take his eyes off this wonderful, ferocious woman.

 _Oh fuck,_ he thought slightly manically. _I think I caught feelings._


	7. Routine

A very tiny drabble prompted by insomnia. Post-canon fluff. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/153062031698/having-trouble-sleeping-so-i-wrote-some-soft-and). 

* * *

 

Andrew woke up blearily when the midday sun sneaked through the curtains enough to blind him. He rubbed a hand over his face and checked the time, slightly appalled at himself for sleeping so late. After a moment he shuffled out of the bedroom, pulling on an old hoodie as he went. Neil smiled at him from the couch, surrounded by blankets and piles of fluff.

“Morning.”

Andrew nodded and helped himself to coffee, then sat down. He displaced the cats and accepted Neil’s small kiss to his cheek. He let the cats settle back over his legs and rested a hand on Neil’s thigh. He hadn’t liked his life before, but the ‘before’ times were getting wonderfully distant.


	8. Writer's Block

Another tiny insomnia drabble. Slight AU where Andrew starts writing a children's adventure book after retiring from Exy. There will probably be more in the future :) Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/153062031698/having-trouble-sleeping-so-i-wrote-some-soft-and). 

* * *

 

Andrew scowled at the laptop screen and minimised the windows one by one until he could stare at the wallpaper – intricate interlocking geometric patterns repeating over and over.

“I hate this book,” he grumbled.

Neil stirred from where he had been laying petting the cats, drowsy from his flight yesterday. “No you don’t,” Neil replied. “You love it so much it hurts when you can’t get the words out right.”

Andrew said nothing and let his eyes follow the patterns. “Screw you,” he muttered eventually.

“I’m just fluent in Minyardian bullshit,” Neil chuckled.

Andrew huffed, then got back to work.


	9. Anchor

Shortform oneshot originally found [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/152917779888/some-soft-future-andreil-for-my-buddy). Post-canon, in the pro leagues and long distance. No warnings.

* * *

 

Neil rolled his shoulder with a grimace and waved off his teammates’ concern. “Really, I’m fine guys,” he assured them, with only a little pang at how extravagantly and excessively his Foxes would have reacted to his statement, instead of satisfied nods. “I’ll stretch it out tonight and I’ll be good for tomorrow.”

He waved bye to them all as they parted ways outside the stadium. He was just about to start his jog to the subway station when he noticed a very large, very black, and very familiar old Maserati parked just off to the side. 

He blinked at it for a solid minute, disbelieving, taking in the short man leaning against the side of it whose whole body spelled ‘home’. Andrew stared right back, cigarette in his lips and smoke in his hair. After a short time, he stepped on the butt and folded his arms across his stomach. He tilted his head with just a hint of impatience and Neil was able to move towards him at last.

“Hello,” He smiled once they were just a foot apart.

“Hi,” Andrew replied calmly, keeping his eyes held tight.

“I thought you were on a PR tour,” Neil said. His eyes were busy drinking in the sight of Andrew – his old jeans, battered combat boots, tight black shirt. His scuffed brown jacket, the pack of cigarettes bulging out the pocket, the few little darts of white in his already-pale hair, the shine of stubble on his jaw. His hands, all wide palms and broad fingers lined with careful calluses and old fight marks. His knuckles and the tip of his nose blushed a little red from the brisk wind.

“Ducked out,” Andrew said with a small shrug. “Figured I’d come bother you instead.”

“Is that right,” Neil grinned. His cheeks were starting to hurt from it, but he couldn’t stop. It had been three months since they’d last been in the same city or even state, what with both their teams having plenty of away games and all the PR they had to do, especially Andrew’s team with their recent mission to bring professional Exy to more states. It had only been a handful of days since their last Skype call, but it was a world of difference between sitting in front of a webcam and standing outside with the wind in his hair and his heart singing in his chest just to hear Andrew’s voice without interference or contrivance. “You figured you’d drive nearly ten hours just to bother me.”

“And to check you haven’t killed your plants. We both know you probably didn’t water them this week.”

“Rude,” Neil muttered.

Andrew looked at him with that slight purse to his lips that meant he was pleased. “Come here,” he said quietly, and Neil’s heart stuttered.

He closed the distance between them carefully and leant his head down, feeling like he was sinking into warm water after a rainstorm. They tilted their heads together, temple to temple and cheek to cheek. Andrew held his hips and waist and Neil couldn’t help but curve into him, settling himself against the solid presence of his lodestone, hands on Andrew’s arms to anchor himself. This was still a new thing for them; they didn’t really hug, but they could lean on each other and hold close and that was more than enough. Neil heard Andrew take a slow breath and let it out low and smooth, his body relaxing almost imperceptibly as he leant into Neil as well. Neil let his eyes droop closed and let himself drift, at once unfettered and kept close. The aches from practice were nothing, the twinge in his shoulder even less. All that mattered was that Andrew was _here_ and they could breathe the same air again.

He didn’t care that they were right outside Neil’s team’s court, where anybody could see them. He didn’t care they would probably get papped if they stayed here much longer. He didn’t care about Andrew’s manager getting pissed at him for blowing off the tour halfway through. Andrew was holding him and bathing in his body heat and he was complete again after feeling so unbalanced and unsteady in his absence.

“I missed you,” Neil breathed, because it was the truth.

Andrew hummed softly and his thumb gently swept over Neil’s hipbone. _I missed you too._

Neil pressed his lips together to stop them from trembling, and nudged his cheek against Andrew’s. Andrew nudged back with another hum and tightened his hands on Neil’s hips. He was home at last, and his heart was full.

“Hey,” Andrew whispered. “Abram.”

Neil opened his eyes and Andrew tilted just a bit to lean their foreheads together, his solemn eyes fixed on Neil, and Neil alone. He kissed Neil very lightly, nothing more than a fleeting press of lips, and brushed his finger joints against the small of Neil’s back. Neil smiled and stretched his hands just enough to feel the firm swell of Andrew’s biceps through his jacket, but he didn’t squeeze like he would have done any other time. Each gentle touch was all the more precious for their restraint; after lifetimes of urgency, of do-or-die all-or-nothing, it was a strange pleasure to hold back and be as delicate as they possibly could. They were taking their armour off, piece by piece, and learning to breathe without its weight. Trusting each other to keep them safe without its protection.

They breathed together blissfully, needing no other occupation than seeing and touching and being near each other again. Neil kissed the wind-chafed tip of Andrew’s nose and shivered a little in the bitter wind, but he didn’t want to suggest they get in the car and go somewhere warmer. He didn’t want this moment to break apart. All the warmth he needed was blooming in his chest, sparks quietly catching and taking hold, kindled by Andrew’s presence, and burned gently under his skin.

“You look like candlelight,” Andrew murmured unexpectedly, his voice so, so quiet.

Neil wasn’t ashamed of the way his breath caught. He tried to summon words to reply, but found himself completely unequal to it. So instead, he reached down to find Andrew’s hands. Delicately, he laced their fingers and palms together, holding firm but tender. He bit his lip and nudged their foreheads again, soaking up Andrew’s quiet strength like a flower turning toward the sun. Andrew held his hands tight and took another few deep breaths, as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time they were apart, and had only just remembered how to breathe.

“We can keep doing this inside, you know,” Andrew said eventually.

“I know,” Neil replied drowsily.

Neither moved for long minutes, as reluctant as each other, before they made the effort to step away from each other, hands tingling with the need to touch again. As always, Andrew had the greater self-control, and got into the driver’s seat before he could reach out for Neil again. Neil sat beside him and spent the whole drive watching his face and staring unabashedly. Andrew let him without a word, and casually rested a hand on the centre console where Neil could anchor them together again.


	10. Shy Boy

For the prompt of Neil being shy/selfconscious. Original post [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/157918722718/for-the-prompts-neil-being-shy-or-self-conscious#notes). Fluff.

* * *

 

“I think this was a bad idea,” Neil said as he avoided looking in his reflection’s eyes.

“Shut up,” Allison rolled her eyes and draped an arm around his shoulders; she didn’t really need to try, and honestly she had to lean down a substantial amount to do it with her height advantage. And that was even before the heels. But she kept doing it whenever they hung out, and Neil was used to her being touchy with him at this point. “You look great.”

“Mm.”

Neil frowned at his reflection and picked at the hem of his shirt; it was very high, showing off his scarred stomach and abdomen. Allison had called it a crop top and it was a delicate light blue. It felt smooth and soft against his skin – but his skin was exactly the problem. The hem was so high it would be easy for anybody with a working set of eyes to see the patchwork of his stomach and the ugly lines and gashes all over him. So far, only Wymack and Andrew had seen them. He’d shown Allison last week on their most recent shopping trip and told her that he wanted to try and get over his scars.

He hadn’t been expecting her response of skimpy clothing, but it retrospect maybe it wasn’t such a shock.

“They aren’t ugly, Baby,” Allison said firmly, and rested her cheek on top of his hair. She squeezed his shoulder. “ _You_ aren’t ugly. This is your body, it’s under your control, and nobody is allowed to have a goddamn opinion on it but you. Wear the shirt, don’t wear the shirt, it’s up to you. But you have nothing to be ashamed of, okay?”

Her gaze was firm and unrelenting, unbreakable.

He chewed his lip and slowly brought both hands to his stomach and pressed hard over the raised lines. He breathed in and out once, twice, in hard pulls of his lungs. Then he dropped his hands and gathered his nerve.

“I think I heard Dan and Matt come back,” he said evenly. “Movie night?”

Her grin was so hard and full of pride he could feel its bite in his hair when she kissed the top of his head.


	11. Dadmack

Prompt for the Andrew and Coach Wymack dynamic. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/157919955073/hello-would-you-please-write-something-about#notes). Warnings for Andrew being medicated and references to alcoholism.

* * *

 David knew he shouldn’t be surprised anymore to find his home violated at odd times of the night, but really he drew the line at Andrew sneaking in at three fucking a.m just to root through his freezer.

“Go home, Minyard,” he sighed tiredly from the kitchen doorway. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of student? With classes and exams and shit?”

“Sorry Coach,” Andrew threw a wide grin over his shoulder and hefted a tub of ice cream from the top drawer. David frowned – he hadn’t bought that. The little asshole must have stashed it there during his last break-in. “It’s too stuffy in that room! Far too many issues bundled up in one space. Terrible for my skin.”

“Why are you medicated right now?” David asked, looking at him seriously as the last vestiges of sleep drained out his brain through his ear.

Andrew looked at him mockingly, his eyes far too bright. “But Coach, I’m always medicated. I wouldn’t dare break my parole, no sir.”

“You take your last dose at nine so you can sleep, don’t shit around,” David frowned and stepped into the room. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing at all,” Andrew lied through his teeth and dodged around David to perch on his couch, ass on the back and shoes on the cushions. He tossed the ice cream lid onto the floor behind him and took a huge spoonful. David winced as Andrew kept full eye contact and _chewed_.

“Andrew. You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t need or want something. What is it?”

“I ran out of ice cream,” Andrew shrugged lightly. “And Kevin drained the place dry. I think that boy has a drinking problem, you should probably show him your AA chips. He’d probably like that, after the meltdown.”

David squinted a bit, pawing with his uncooperative brain. It was hard enough dealing with Andrew high off his head, never mind when he was feeling especially difficult and it was three. Fucking. A.M.

“You took your meds when you found out there was no alcohol around?” David asked eventually. Andrew gave him a chocolate-smeared grin but didn’t reply, so David knew he was getting close. His stomach sank. “You’re trying to stay awake if you can’t get blackout drunk.”

“Oh, Coach, I think you’re projecting. That’s probably unhealthy.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep?”

“I told you, I just wanted some ice cream,” Andrew rolled his eyes, but his leg jiggled. Andrew could evade and play word games all he liked when he was medicated, but he still couldn’t lie convincingly.

“I think I deserve a real answer if I’m going to stay up with you and keep you awake,” David said firmly as he sat in his old, squashy armchair. “That’s fair, right?”

Andrew’s manic grin faded for a second, lucidity breaking through just briefly. “Fair trade. Hah.” He lifted the ice cream and wiped the chocolatey mess off his face with the back of his hand. “You got me there. Tonight’s an anniversary, and not a fun one. I’m not a fan of the dreams that pop up around this time. Don’t let me fall asleep, okay? We’ll both regret it if you do.”

David sighed and sat up straighter in his chair. “Alright. So what are we gonna talk about? Did you see that new garbage superhero movie?”

Andrew started loudly and cheerfully listing its faults, mouth running a mile a minute and his gaze vacantly amused. David nodded along and kept him awake with questions and topics; Andrew might be a pint-bottle of the worst issues he’d had on the line since the beginning, but he was a Fox. He was one of David’s Foxes, and he would stand between them and their demons as much as he could.


	12. Distract Me

Prompt of Andrew and Neil meeting on a plane and Andrew needing to be distracted :) Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/157921462758/i-love-all-your-fics-and-youre-such-an-awesome#notes). Fluff.

* * *

 

 _Oh my God, just get on with it already,_ Neil grumbled silently as he watched the flight attendants walk everybody through the safety procedures with an extreme snail’s pace. He’d lost count of the number of flights he’d endured years ago, he knew it all even better than the backs of his hands.

It would call too much attention to flagrantly ignore them, though, so he kept looking forwards and wiped the annoyance from his face. The plane started taxiing towards the runway and Neil nudged his duffel wedged under the seat in front to check it was securely stashed. Unfortunately his nudging pushed it forwards, and he felt it hit the man in front’s feet. The guy twitched and Neil muttered a ‘sorry’ under his breath.

That wasn’t enough, apparently, because the guy made the effort to turn fully around in his seat to scowl over the headrest – well, between the headrests. He was too short to see over the top without standing up.

“Sorry, man,” Neil said with a bitten-off sigh. “Didn’t mean to kick you.”

The man narrowed his eyes for a moment, then turned back around. Neil rolled his eyes and watched the back of the guy’s fair head instead of the safety talk. He was a twitchy grouch, Neil observed. At every noise of the hydraulics, he was looking out the windows then quickly back inside. Every little fluctuation in the air flow made him tense up, and each bump in the runway had him swearing quietly enough that it would have been covered by the ambient fuzz of the other passengers if you weren’t listening for it. As the plane picked up speed and the force shoved everyone back against their seats, rattling and buzzing, he heard a harsh, ragged gasp from the man in front.

The plane clawed its way into the air and even Neil grimaced at the wobbles as the plane sorted itself out to get to cruising altitude and fully horizontal again. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to somebody afraid of flying, as he presumed the guy in front to be.

So he said “Hey,” when the seatbelt sign blipped off and nudged his bag again into the guy’s ankles. “Dude.”

“Not your dude,” the man said through gritted teeth, shooting him another scowl between headrests.

“Whatever. You want a toffee? They’re good for ear pressure,” Neil offered and dug out his little bag. “I don’t really like sweets, so I won’t finish the bag.”

The man eyed him suspiciously, then grabbed a handful and shoved them in his pocket.

“So where are you off to?”

“None of your business.”

“Fair enough, though we’re both going through JFK at least.” Neil smiled. “And that’s an hour away. What do you normally do to pass the time? I listen to music.”

“I read,” the guy said shortly. “You’re very chatty.”

Neil shrugged. “Talking’s more interesting than staring out the window.”

The guy’s eyes flicked immediately to the window, where clouds and the long, long distance to the ground was immediately obvious. He didn’t seem bothered by it, but Neil knew the signs of carefully-repressed fear.

“What book are you reading?” He asked and successfully got the man’s attention again. “I’m Neil, by the way.”

“Didn’t ask.” The man was turning away when a jolt of turbulence hit and Neil saw the naked panic in his expression for just a second. “Andrew,” he huffed once the turbulence had eased. “My name’s Andrew.”


	13. Professor "IDGAF" Minyard

Prompted for Andrew as a professor, original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/157922144803/prompt-for-andreil-andrew-is-a-professor-probably#notes) :) No warnings.

* * *

 

Rule number one of Criminal Psychology 101: Don’t make eye contact with the five-foot stack of unimpressed boredom that is Professor Minyard

Rule number two: if I catch you eating the abomination that is sour candy one more time, Johnson, you’re getting an F on your next essay and I don’t give a fuck

Rule number three: stay quiet and listen because he may sound like he doesn’t care but he knows a shocking amount and will talk non-stop about his subject if you don’t interrupt and holy shit is anyone recording this because you might just pass this class if you can memorise this shit

Rule number four: apparently the professor carries knives around sometimes? Don’t ask stupid questions

Rule number five: ask the stupid questions in his office after the lecture and receive a free mug of cocoa with your answer

Rule number six: he will absolutely refuse to talk about any personal issues but rumour has it one girl had a nervous breakdown about her grades and he just marched her to the medical wing and gave her a blanket pass but if you tell anyone he _will_ glare at you and that’s worse than the knives

Rule number seven: don’t mention the cat hair on his sleeve

Rule number eight: the professor seems to mark up essays and projects on the criminalisation of mental illness and prejudice in the law system so get on that shit and what the fuck this is horrifying reading

Rule number nine: the professor’s been a bit more chilled lately? The betting pool is getting ridiculous on what’s causing it but everyone seems to think he’s found a good lay; do not ever mention the betting pool out loud

Rule number ten: what the fuck is that a wedding ring

Rule number eleven: why yes it is Johnson, congratulations on having eyes

Rule number twelve: don’t scream when the extremely hot languages professor comes in and kisses professor Minyard’s cheek _hoe don’t do it_

Rule number thirteen: oh my god


	14. My Friend, O My Friend

Prompt for Renee's reaction after Drake/Easthaven and Andrew's return. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/157978091073/is-angst-okay-as-a-prompt-then-i-would-like-to#notes). Warnings for reference to Drake, rape, Andrew's assault, general violent thoughts.

* * *

 

Renee hadn’t cried when Wymack called to tell the team that Andrew’s lot would be coming back the next day, but Andrew would not. She hadn’t cried when he gave them the most bare-bones rundown of events possible over the speakerphone – _Andrew was attacked and raped by a former foster brother at Nicky’s parents’ house. Betsy’s getting him checked into rehab now so he can process the trauma sober. Aaron’s being held for questioning for killing the guy. Neil’s racquet got taken as evidence. Practice is cancelled for today. We’ll be back tomorrow._

She hadn’t cried thinking of all the moves she’d taught him for getting out of a stronger opponent’s hold, hadn’t let herself dwell on the guilt that maybe if she’d fought him harder, if she’d listened more carefully, if she’d taught him better, this wouldn’t have happened.

Of course not. Her friends needed her, shocked and angered and horrified by the situation regardless of their personal feelings about Andrew. He was their teammate and he’d been brutally hurt, and they didn’t know how to help or feel. So she held them together and let herself be the steady rock, ignoring the waves of pain and grief and rage washing over her.

She didn’t drink herself to oblivion. Instead, she watched her friends slowly fall asleep and kept watch, and promised herself never to fail her friends like this again. For an hour she contemplated breaking into Andrew’s room to find the knife she knew kept sentry under his pillow at all times (of course, of course, it made so much sense now, of course oh God), and taking a cab to Columbia to carve apologies from the Hemmicks. She contemplated going anyway to be there for Nicky, who must be so shocked and wounded from the whole day. She contemplated going there for Neil, to empathise with whatever sick responsibility he must be feeling too. They were the ones who knew him best, after all, they should have been able to keep him safe from all this.

She was at least grateful Neil and Aaron had apparently got there, if not in time to prevent it, but in time to end things.

She spent the rest of the night praying for her friends, for Andrew’s healing, and forgiveness for herself and the cruel twist of her thoughts when she imagined her _friend_ being held down and brutalised without anyone to defend him, and the sick rage that possessed her for hours. She prayed for guidance when she couldn’t avoid thinking about the awful association between _former foster brother_ and the events of the day, of wondering how often this had happened before Andrew went to juvie. She prayed and prayed, dry-eyed, and cursed the sun for being so slow to rise.

When Andrew’s family came back, she went to Nicky because he looked the closest to breaking, and Aaron had Katelyn to help, though Neil looked tired and angry and ill in the same way she felt deep in her bones. He didn’t shy away from handling his new racquet in the same way Renee didn’t shy away from her knives in Andrew’s hands. There was no need to fear a weapon remade for protection, after all. She tried talking to Neil about it, needing it for her own sake as well, from someone who knew Andrew as well as she did (well, he was quickly catching up to her), to hear his outrage and to have him lash out at her if needed, to demand why she had failed their friend. But Neil didn’t want to talk to her, still nervous, and she swallowed down her request to spar with him and left him on his own, as he wished. He chose boxing lessons from Matt instead and Renee tried to cope on her own without her usual sparring partner.

The seven weeks without Andrew felt lopsided and strange. Neil was knitting the team together anew, slowly tugging the cousins and the upperclassmen together, and Renee would have been angered if she couldn’t see the quiet space he was keeping for Andrew’s return, the gaps he was leaving on purpose that only their friend could fill. She trusted him not to exclude Andrew from the new arrangement, and bided her time.

She knew that Dan was hoping for a tearful, emotional reunion when Andrew was given back to them. She knew the others were still betting on her and Andrew (with the exception of Neil, how ironic) and wanted to see her reaction to his sobriety. She didn’t bother to hide her reaction, though it obviously wasn’t what everyone had been hoping for.

He looked back at her for the length of two heartbeats. He was calm and still and clear-eyed for the first time she’d seen since her own trip to Columbia. He was measured and deadly and economical in his movements, distilled watchful danger. The deadness in his gaze was a little concerning, but she trusted Bee to help soothe that over time. She smiled, because her friend was back, and he was truly _himself_ for the first time in three years. He looked at her without reproach, without anger, without manic irritation. He looked as if seeing her properly for the first time, and she supposed it was, without the drugs colouring his perceptions and warping his thoughts.  He looked, and assessed, and welcomed all parts of her without judgement or horror.

 _Hello_ , their shared glance said. _It’s good to see you again._


	15. An Ass That Won't Quit

Neil in booty shorts. Aww yiss. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/157980386883/if-youre-still-taking-prompts-what-about-andrews#notes). nsfw with d/s elements including orgasm denial. Very likely to give this a small fic of its own in the future :>

* * *

 

_What the fuck._

“I’m going to murder Nicky,” Neil mutters as he roots through his drawers. “Slowly. I’ll chop off his fingers and shove them down his throat.”

Andrew is having a similar train of thought, but he can’t muster much spite as he watches Neil crouch down and kneel on the floor to dig under the bed. Not when he’s wearing the tiniest damn booty shorts Andrew has ever seen, and he has an amazing vantage point from his loft bed. He crosses his arms on the top of the railing and perches his chin on them, looking down at the arch of Neil’s back and the gorgeous shape of his ass in those clingy shorts. They look like lycra, and them hems don’t even cover the tops of his thighs. They cut a wonderful curve right across the roundest part of Neil’s ass and show off the delicate crease between his cheeks and thighs that Andrew likes tracing when they’re alone. He watches the muscles twitch and stretch as Neil grumbles and shoves his arm further under the bed.

“Can you believe this?” Neil is ranting indignantly. “He’s taken _all_ my pants and jeans and sweats and replaced them with these tiny things. I’m going to be cold all day.”

Andrew could easily imagine warming Neil’s taut, strong thighs with his hands for hours. When Neil stands up Andrew gets another gift – they’re tight across his ass, so of course they’re tight _everywhere_. Next to nothing is left to the imagination, and Andrew let his eyes linger for just a moment on the shape of him, shown off and exposed, and remembers the weight and heat of him in his hand. Sometimes Neil lets him cup his hand and feel him soft, just pressing and holding, a slow tease for them both for the inevitable, when Neil’s hypersensitivity and eagerness gets things moving in other directions.

“I can’t go out to class like this,” Neil says. “This is absolutely ridiculous. Andrew, can I borrow your jeans for the day?”

Andrew’s gut clenches hotly. First he wakes up to see Neil showing off all his assets, and now he gets to feel smug about Neil walking around wearing his clothes. He might not murder Nicky after all.

He has a very cold shower, though, because it’s far too early in the day to be _this_ horny.

He somehow makes it through the rest of the day with his mind mostly on his classes and definitely not thinking about Neil walking around in those tiny shorts, about him stretching out in bed and moaning, about him lying face-down with his legs spread wide and hips tilted up… okay, maybe he doesn’t take any notes that day.

Nicky pouts and hands money over to Dan after practice when they all see Neil didn’t wear the shorts to class. He tries to get a rise out of Andrew, but Andrew gives him his best poker face and is more than a little grateful that the goalie armour is so bulky and shielding around his legs and stomach.

He does get a brief hour with Neil alone in their dorm, though, with Kevin bothering the upperclassmen. He pretends to be smoking as Neil walks around making a shopping list, but his eyes catch on the slightest line of a hem through the jeans. He frowns a little until he realises with a hot swoop of wanting that Neil didn’t bother changing out of the shorts at all, just put the jeans on over the top and using the shorts as underwear. He rests a hand on the desk under himself to keep himself steady at the thought.

“Give the jeans back,” he commands before he can think about it, and Neil rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, here you go,” he says and strips them off without ceremony. And _fuck_. Andrew thinks for a moment that his memory might be failing him because the shorts look even tighter and more magnificent than they did this morning.

“Come here,” he says, and the heat in his voice is embarrassingly obvious. Neil’s head whips around, licks his lips, and walks over slowly. He steps up close, parting his legs around Andrew’s knees and folds his arms submissively behind his back.

“Yes,” he breathes when Andrew lifts his hands in question, and sighs when Andrew rests them hot and firm on his glorious ass. He keeps making the most mortifyingly hot noises as Andrew palms at his ass and tugs him closer, as he slips his fingers under the elasticated hems and squeezes hard. He groans and shivers as Andrew digs fingertips into that lovely curve and crease and massages his thighs. Andrew watches him harden and swell, watches the tight fabric stretch and _fuck._ Andrew presses a thumb between his cheeks and rubs hard, careful circles, promising more later while Neil shudders and gasps his name, tenting out the front of the shorts and trembling with want.

Andrew wants to rub him through the shorts, feel them dampening with anticipation, wants to press his mouth and tease, but he’s too conscious of the time and the unlocked door. Besides, they’ve both discovered the thrill of drawing things out, the way it shatters Neil’s body when he’s finally at the peak of release and the heady rush it gives Andrew to see him joyfully obeying, submitting, in wonderful thrall to his commands.

He gives one last squeeze of Neil’s ass, hard enough to make him gasp, then leans up so his lips are just brushing against Neil’s.

“Keep these on under the jeans,” he says in a low voice, their lips buzzing. “Don’t touch yourself. We’re going to Columbia later.”

Neil shudders and nods eagerly, his breath harsh and hot on Andrew’s cheek.


	16. 22

Prompt for one of Andreil watching another's professional games, remixed a little for Neil's birthday :) Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/159050836673/maybe-andrew-or-neil-surprising-the-other-and#notes). Slight warnings for vague anxiety and panic attack-like symptoms.

* * *

 

Neil counted his steps around the locker room. Ten, fifteen, twenty before he got back to his locker. It was empty, as the rest of the team hadn’t arrived yet. Serve wasn’t for another hour, he had about fifteen minutes before warmups started.

He couldn’t get rid of the buzzing in his chest. It was his twenty second birthday today.

Some days he could only think in numbers. Sometimes that was wonderful – an ever-extending tally of days spent in sunlight and laughter. But some days, like today, the weight of all that _time_ , time he’d never expected to have, seemed to press on him. It could either paralyse him or set him sprinting for the hills.

The pacing was an uneasy compromise.

He’d thought he would die at eighteen, at the very oldest. But here he was, four years later. Still alive. Most of a year out from graduating PSU, and the youngest sign-on for the Chicago Hurricanes, striker sub expected to move up to the starter line after this season, being prospected for Court already. He had a little apartment not too far from the stadium, and a shitty car that Andrew _despised_ sitting there waiting. He had a few plants and a wardrobe full of clothes. He had three suitcases and a keyring bursting with metal.

It was… it was so much more than the life in the shadows his mother had envisaged for him.

He thought this uncontrollable unravelling feeling might be slowed, might be easier to bear, with his family around him. If he had Matt’s shoulder to lean on, Dan’s advice to soothe, Allison’s kisses to his forehead, Renee’s steady smile, Aaron’s gruff nonchalance, Nicky’s overwhelming concern, Kevin’s well-meaning awkwardness, Wymack’s fierce smack-talk, Abby’s gentle love, Robin’s hope and determination.

Andrew’s strength and solidity, more than enough to hold him up and keep him safe. God, if he could just feel Andrew’s touch on his skin, he thought all this storm might blow over like the silliness he knew, deep down, it was, but couldn’t shake.

But he hadn’t seen any of them since graduating. He’d been so busy, and they were too, and Skype was a poor substitute for five years of living cheek-to-jowl. Especially with Andrew. They videocalled two or three times a week, texted on and off. They had it down to a science now, after Andrew signing on with Boston less than a month after his own graduation. But it was still so _little_ , and right now he felt a solid shake away from crumbling.

He shoved his hands through his hair and took huge, gulping breaths to try and calm down. He couldn’t let the team see him like this. The coaches had already said it was tradition for everyone to go out to dinner on a teammate’s birthday, but he’d felt queasy at the thought of being surrounded by _not-­family_ on this day. He’d firmly said there was no need to announce it and he didn’t want any special treatment, and the coaches had reluctantly agreed not to mention it to the team.

He sat himself down on the bench and pressed his palm to the back of his neck, digging in his nails and trying to kid himself that it was Andrew’s hand instead, hot and heavy and secure. It kind of worked. He managed to get the panic under control and swallowed it down until it changed to faint nausea instead.

He had his I’m Fine front back up by the time everyone else filed in, and he lost himself in the drone of their pregame talk, ramping themselves up and getting psyched for the game. He tried to feel it, but it was hard when he was so occupied with the ache of _lacking_ in his chest, with his heartbeat echoing solo and lonely in the chasm of his ribcage. He told himself just to focus on the game and he could Skype everyone afterwards. He could go home and curl up in bed with his laptop beside him and videochat with Andrew, and pretend they were laying in the same bed and falling asleep together. It would be enough.

He followed his teammates out onto court for laps and drills and kept his eyes firmly on the ground in front of him and the racquet in his hands. He was succeeding, until even he couldn’t ignore the booming commentary blasting through the stadium.

“ _…wonder what he’s doing here? Give us a wave, Minyard, you’re on camera!”_ One of the commentators was saying with hammy joy.

Neil whipped his head around so fast he felt his neck twinge. He stared up at the monitors above the scoreboard and felt heat curl through him.

Andrew was here.

He was sitting in the stands behind the home goal, it looked like, beefy and gorgeous and coldly unimpressed with everything. He stared right down the camera lens and stuck out his tongue childishly; no doubt his team’s publicist had lectured him on not swearing at cameras on nationally-broadcast games. The commentators were laughing and loudly wondering why he would be at this game in particular, his stats and his team’s most recent win, but Neil ignored them.

He turned to look at home goal and Andrew’s eyes snapped to his immediately, no matter the distance. He was jogging over before he could register the movement until he was as close to the plexiglass as possible without squashing up against it. Andrew was only three rows up and the fans around him were probably watching them both eagerly, but Neil _couldn’t care._

Andrew held his eyes steadily, calmly, the all-important eye of the storm. Tension slowly melted out of Neil’s frame and the tremor left his hands. He looked right back and felt a smile grow on his face; a real one, a soft one, one full of too much with so many cameras but _fuck that Andrew was right there._

Andrew lifted his hands out of his pockets and signed with his usual brisk efficiency. _What have I told you about staring, junkie._

Neil grinned and tucked his racquet under his armpit to sign back, his motions quick and fluid. _Can’t stop me from up there. What are you doing here? You could have said you were coming._

Andrew rolled his eyes slightly. _We can talk later. Happy number twenty two, I guess._

Warmth filled and surrounded Neil. No matter Andrew’s blustering, he was here because he knew how touchy Neil was about his birthdays. He was here to steady Neil and support him, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

 _Thank you,_ Neil signed back. _Will you watch my back tonight?_

 _I always do,_ Andrew replied with a snort. _Make them look like fools. I’ll catch you later after press._

Neil nodded and grinned. He didn’t want to move away, but his captain was calling him and the fans were losing their shit to see them interacting and oops serve was only a couple minutes away. He gave an excited little wave that Andrew acknowledged in a slow blink, then ran back to join his team with energy rushing through him.

Andrew was watching from the goal, as he always did. Last line of defence, ultimate protector. Neil was home, he was on the court, he was going to _wreck_ their opponents, and afterward he could have Andrew all to himself all night.

 _Happy birthday to me_ , he thought giddily and clacked racquets with his teammates.


	17. Double Trouble

Prompt for an andreil and renison double date. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/159073260988/for-the-lil-prompt-thing-am-i-too-late-i-hope#notes). Featuring an autistic-spec/neurodivergent Andrew because you will never take my ND Andrew headcanons away from me, no sir. Warnings for sensory overload and shutdown.

* * *

 

Andrew wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up at this strip mall, sitting outside at a coffee shop with Neil, Renee and Allison while the sun glared in his eyes (he really needed to invest in new sunglasses after breaking the last pair) and beat down unforgivingly through his black shirt. It was a fucking busy Saturday, and the crowds swelled and surged around them in a near-unbearable wall of noise. Children shrieked and cried, teenagers yelled, parents talked louder over the hubbub, the tannoy squeaked and whined with feedback, the music from the shops around blared, the crowds reeked of BO and perfume and body spray, everything was too hot and itchy and the fluorescent lighting flickered and buzzed and… _no no no._

Well, okay, he knew exactly how he’d ended up here. Allison had asked Neil and Neil had asked Andrew with his sweetly pleading eyes and gentle hands and soft lips, and here he was. Fucking asshole.

Renee smiled softly at him from across the table and slid over her iced drink. He asked with a raised eyebrow if she was sure, and she smiled wider and pushed it closer. He pursed his lips and lifted his chin in thanks before wrapping his hands around the cold plastic container and discreetly pressing his now-cold palms to his forehead and cheeks. He stole a few quick sips and gave it back; it was plenty sugary enough for him, but the banana pulp and mango juice in it made his teeth itch. In return he gave her half his toffee muffin, and she picked off bits to nibble delicately.

He watched Neil and Allison chat and picked at the rest of his food; for all that he was having a hard time dealing with all the sensory input, Neil looked relaxed and thrilled. It made his whole body loosen and open up – he was much more generous with his gestures, expressive in his face, more prone to smiles and the near-silent, cautious huffs that passed for his laughter. He shone under the sun, reddish hair burning fiery and gorgeous, pale eyes reflecting so much light, the newly-acquired patches of freckles more obvious in natural daylight.

Andrew wanted to hold him close and kiss him breathless, but that wasn’t exactly a new thing. He’d had that impulse pretty much since the first time Neil had tossed his two-finger salute back, all that time ago on Neil’s first day in Palmetto. It had just got stronger since then, especially now he knew he could _actually_ do that.

Neil glanced his way then blinked in surprise to catch Andrew watching him. He smiled shyly and leaned closer, his hand slipping over under the table to touch his knee.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ignore you.”

“I knew from the start this was just an excuse to have a date with Allison,” Andrew replied coolly. “It’s fine.”

Neil squeezed his knee and smiled gently, all curving lips and bunching cheeks, scars folding in on themselves. Fuck. “It’s not,” Neil assured him quietly. “Where do you want to go next?”

Andrew shrugged. He wouldn’t mind getting some new clothes for himself, but honestly he didn’t want to go back inside again. He was tired and overheated and trembling on the edge of overload. He knew he should just _say so_ , but he’d always been stubborn and unwilling to reveal anything that could be perceived as weakness. He took Neil’s hand and laced their fingers together instead of replying.

“…well we _have_ to get you some sundresses,” Allison was insisting as her fingers twirled locks of Renee’s rainbow hair idly. “You can’t keep wearing long skirts and blouses, you’ll die in this heatwave.”

“I’m perfectly happy with my summer clothes, Alli,” Renee smiled and leaned into her hand unselfconsciously. “I’m used to them.”

Allison pouted and casually swiped her thumb over Renee’s cheekbone. “Why do you never let me spoil you? I promise I won’t pick out anything scandalous or flashy, even though you definitely deserve some downright skintight slinky things.”

Renee blushed – honest to God _blushed._ Andrew had never seen her embarrassed or discomposed at _all_. It was kind of funny.

“I – well – alright,” Renee gave in sheepishly. “But nothing too expensive.”

Allison crowed with victory and got to her feet. “I know just the place!”

The rest got to their feet and Andrew made sure to hook his fingers in Neil’s belt-loops as they headed back into the horrific noise of the mall. It would be easier to stay focussed and calm with Neil close by.

Neil grinned at Renee. “That conversation felt awfully familiar,” he said.

“That’s because you’re a stubborn idiot with terrible fashion sense,” Andrew muttered.

Renee smiled at them both and was about to reply when Allison draped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer as they walked, distracting her completely as she leaned into the taller woman’s side. They were certainly a striking pair, Andrew could admit. With Allison as tall and fierce as an Amazon, muscular and lean and with ass-length golden hair and perfect clothes and heels, standing next to short, pastel-delicate, conservative-seeming Renee with her short bob and unassuming white button-up and knee-length blue skirt and simple black dolly shoes. Andrew knew she was strongly built like himself and more than capable of brawling when called for, but she looked meek and placid and delicate curled into Allison’s protective arm.

He still didn’t entirely like Allison, but he could appreciate her barbed tongue and the way Renee bloomed like a flower near her.

He and Neil followed them quietly as Allison whizzed around the store, pulling dresses off the rack and affectionately insisting that Renee model them for her, fleeting touches and quick kisses offered without hesitance or embarrassment. It made him firm his grip on Neil’s belt-loops; he wasn’t one for regret or jealousy, but there was a definite pang of _not being enough_ in his chest as he watched them trade touches and looks and words with such transparent ease.

Especially when the noise was becoming unbearable and he could hardly think, it was all static and yelling and horribly looping overheard snippets of conversation in his head, distorting and fuzzing, _Jamie please put that back – and then I said she’s frigid – haha, wild man – Jamie please put that back – oh this looks so good on you babe! – she’s frigid – babe – babe – haha, wild man – Jamie please put that back, put that back, back, back – haha, wild man – babe – Jamie put back – and then I said – wild – babe – she’s frigid – so good on you – haha – haha – Jamie please put that back – then I said – babe – haha, wild – oh! – put that back – and then I said she’s frigid – back, back – looks so good on you! …_

too loud too much why was everything so loud everything hurt his eyes were stabbing he couldn’t breathe _he couldn’t breathe_ why can’t everything just quiet down too bright too loud clothes too tight stumbling and tripping _haha wild man Jamie please put that back_ so bright and buzzy and _loud_ and oh God someone make it stop make it stop make it stop please just make it stop there I said please just make it stop make it stop shit shit fuck too loud too loud too loud no no no

“Andrew?” Neil asked softly, his face blurring in and out of focus. He spoke slowly, each word clear. “Do you want to leave?”

Andrew didn’t know if he replied, but Neil took his hand firmly and started walking. Andrew followed and tried to breathe through the awful tightness in his chest and the too-full crowding in his head. They snaked through the crowds with ease and Neil seemed to know where he was going, so Andrew let him lead. His own legs were unsteady and uncoordinated, a lurching gait that only appeared when he was too overwhelmed to figure out where to put his feet and how hard to step and how much pressure he was putting on his knees and ankles.

Neil led them to a quiet service corridor, dark and cool from the AC outlets in the ceiling, separated from the bustle of the mall.

“Sit,” Neil said calmly, and helped him settle on the floor with his back to the wall. Neil knelt down in front of him, slotting between his shaky, splayed legs like he belonged there. Which he did. “Close your eyes, I’ll keep you safe.”

Andrew let his head slump forwards until it was resting on Neil’s chest and tried to block the rest of the world out. He was vaguely aware he was shaking and trembling from the stress but couldn’t control it at all. His jaw hurt from clenching and his head was absolutely killing him.

Neil’s cool hands came to rest gently over his ears, muffling the world that was just _too fucking much_ and helping get the noise down to something hazy and unclear, no words, no speech, just mumbles and burbles.

He could feel Neil’s heartbeat against his face and the slow pace of his breathing and tried to focus on that instead. Time blurred and melted together and he had no idea how long they’d been sitting there but at some point Neil’s hands moved to stroke so softly through his hair and over his neck. The tightly wound frantic stress gave way to heavy exhaustion and numbness, and soon he was slumped into Neil because he just couldn’t support himself. Neil held him up and kept him anchored.

Thoughts were slow and hard to follow all the way through, but he eventually concluded that he wanted to touch Neil too. It took a while but he managed to reach with clumsy hands for Neil’s shirt. He tried grabbing it in both hands, but one couldn’t grip hard enough and the other gripped too hard and made his hand spasm uselessly. He heard a frustrated noise in his own throat and Neil hummed quietly. Neil reached down and took Andrew’s hands and squeezed them into the material of his shirt gently, showing Andrew how much pressure to use. He kissed Andrew’s temple and resettled his hands in Andrew’s hair.

Voices were intruding again, a woman’s voice strident and angry and throbbing through the air. Andrew squeezed his eyes tighter shut and tried to block it out but her voice was piercing and shockingly loud in his delicate state.

“—No, _you_ back off,” she was saying. “Your shitty mall has no quiet spaces, what the actual fuck? I’ve half a mind to sue for ableist discrimination. My friend is going through goddamn sensory overload from the incessantly loud music and bright lights and yes, we’re staying here until he’s better and fuck you for suggesting otherwise. I will _not_ move, I don’t care that this is staff only, it’s the only quiet space in this shitshow of a mall and if you had any common decency you’d agree with me!”

It sounded like Allison. Andrew opened his eyes just a crack and turned his head towards her voice. Yep, Allison was standing and blocking the entryway to the service corridor, towering over the uncomfortable looking staff and managers in front of her. She had her arms spread wide to stop them getting past her and stood with all the strength of a dealer used to brawling on the court. Renee stood a little further back, another guard, another block between the people and Andrew and Neil.

Allison kept going, filibustering like a pro. He tuned out her words and refocussed on Neil’s steady presence holding him secure and rubbing little circles into his scalp. He wouldn’t press Andrew to talk or move and wouldn’t touch him any more than this, as they’d discussed the last time this happened.

“Too loud,” Andrew mumbled into his chest, slurred and indistinct but Neil understood him anyway and covered his ears again. He sighed and drifted.

A long time later Andrew was able to reach up slowly and take Neil’s hands away from his head. He lifted his head and looked around, feeling exhausted and vulnerable and exposed. Neil smiled when their eyes met and he scooted backwards to give Andrew more space as he slowly sat up and pressed his back to the wall, stretching out the kinks and cramps in his spine. He blinked up at the ceiling for a minute and vaguely registered that Allison had stopped talking, and that it was just the four of them in the service corridor. He lolled his head to look at the girls.

Renee held out a bottle of water, cold enough that condensation was gathered all over it. He swallowed hard with a dry click and downed it in slow, controlled gulps. Part of him hated that anybody, even Neil, had seen him like that, but mostly he was just relieved it was over. He could be embarrassed later. Right now he had to figure out how to stand up.

Allison watched with folded arms and a proud tilt to her head. She met his gaze fearlessly, without a trace of pity or shock or like he was anything that belonged under her heel. She looked just as she always did – fierce, proud, arrogantly sure that she was in the right and that nobody would ever harm those she considered her own. She always did remind him of himself, oddly enough.

“We aren’t friends,” Andrew mumbled at her.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Of course not. But we’re still family.”

He looked back to Renee rather than process that unfortunately accurate statement. “Your dresses.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll go back and get them ourselves, if you want to go back to the car for a bit.”

Andrew thought about it. The car had amazing AC, and he could sleep in the passenger seat if Neil drove them home. He really didn’t want to go back into the mall, and knew he’d be risking another shutdown for the sake of tattered pride. He looked to Neil.

“I was done with shopping anyway,” Neil shrugged easily. “I don’t mind. We can wait for Renee and Allison. I’ve got a book with me.”

Andrew sighed and nodded. He held out his hands to Neil and grimaced as the striker helped lever him to his feet and steadied him when he swayed. Neil tucked Andrew’s arm around his own waist and propped himself against Andrew’s side.

“The yellow one was pretty,” he told Renee as they slowly passed her. She thanked him and gently touched his shoulder.

He muttered an acid-tasting thank you to Allison, who rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder with a breezy “Go lie down, Minyard. You can repay me by letting me drive the Maserati sometime.”

Neil helped him back into the car and got the AC going. He handed Andrew a pair of sunglasses Allison had left behind, neon pink and sparkly. Andrew snorted but put them on anyway. He folded into the seat and closed his eyes.

He woke up halfway through the drive back to campus and glanced in the rearview mirror; Neil hardly needed to adjust anything when he was driving. He saw Renee and Allison curled up in the backseat. Allison had her arms around her napping girlfriend with her lipsticked mouth pressed to Renee’s hair, a look of soft wonder on her face as she stroked Renee’s cheeks. Renee had fallen asleep with her head on Allison’s chest, her arms around Allison’s hips. His friend looked peaceful and soft, content and safe.

He looked away before Allison caught him watching and observed Neil instead as he drove silently. His hands were capable and careful on the wheel and gearshift, confident and in control. His gaze was focussed and thoughtful, and the sun set him gently glowing through the tinted windows.

Andrew closed his eyes again. He was safe, surrounded by family.


	18. Hands Part 1

Prompt for Andrew painting his nails and Neil's reaction. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/157958186178/tiny-prompt-because-i-personally-cant-come-up#notes). Slight hand kink and nsfw thoughts.

* * *

 

Neil spent a fair amount of time thinking about Andrew’s hands. The way they grabbed tight and squeezed gentle, the way they held his racquet or a cigarette. Those hands knew his skin very well, and he wouldn’t tolerate any others to ever touch him so intimately. He liked the way Andrew fiddled with his knuckles and picked at his cuticles when he was bored or annoyed. He liked the rough blisters and scabs on the heels of his palms and the tops of his knuckles. He liked the delicate blue veins just-visible through his pale skin, the occasional freckle or mole.

So naturally, Neil noticed when something changed.

Nobody else would have cared, obviously, because nobody else would have been distracted by the way Andrew tugged off his goalie gloves with his teeth, cheeks flushed and eyes intense from the temporary thrill of closing the goal. No one else’s heart would have skidded and stumbled and the hard jerk of his head and the bite of his teeth.

So, nobody else would have immediately noticed the shiny black polish decorating his short, blunt nails. Or, if they did, they valued their hide far too much to comment in the showers or locker room after the match.

Neil held his tongue until they were alone on the roof watching campus slowly fade into sleep.

“Can I see?”

Andrew gave him a bored glance but held out his free hand for Neil’s inspection. Neil cradled his hand gently and stroked his fingers over the smooth polish, watching it reflect the lights of the road below and the way it glinted. He saw the occasional small fleck at the sides of his fingers, testament to an uncharacteristic imprecision.

“Very goth,” he commented, and Andrew snorted dry amusement in two long dragonlike plumes of smoke.

“Renee bet I couldn’t do it neatly.”

Neil smiled. “Do you like it? You could have removed it.”

Andrew just blinked, which was as good as agreement.

“Yes or no?”

Andrew nodded with a slight spark of interest in his eyes, leaning closer in anticipation of a kiss. Neil grinned and ducked his head to Andrew’s hand instead. His lips trailed gently over Andrew’s fingers and he let his eyelids droop, content to taste and kiss and lick. He hummed happily and sucked harder when he remembered how Andrew had yanked off his gloves, five feet of fierce furious fire. Andrew’s breath hitched a bit so Neil flicked his tongue over the nails, smiling at the slippery texture against his tongue. He curled his tongue and hollowed his cheeks, not bothering to be subtle when there was heat blooming in his stomach and Andrew was leaning closer, closer, his gaze heavy against Neil’s lips as he watched Neil lavish his fingers with sloppy attention.

“Neil,” he murmured in a voice made of gravel.

Neil glanced up and held his intense eyes as Andrew slowly pulled his fingers from Neil’s mouth and pressed them against his wet lips instead, apparently admiring the sheen of the slick polish against his skin. Neil gently grazed his teeth against the side of his fingers and soothed the nip with the glide of his tongue.

“It looks good on you,” he said, and grinned at the hard _whoosh_ of his breath leaving his lungs when Andrew lunged and pinned him down on the ground, hands heavy on his shoulders and his mouth leaving bruising kisses all over Neil’s lips and jaw. It felt like an even greater victory than the game, and Neil let pleasure overwhelm him.


	19. Hands Part 2

Prompt for Andrew's reaction to Neil worshipping his hands :) Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/159079134468/oh-man-im-so-weak-for-neil-x-andrews-hands-would#notes). Slight nsfw and reference to violence and murder. Reference to some [extra content](http://korakos.tumblr.com/post/132775032787/helloo-i-wanna-start-off-with-how-much-i-enjoyed). I highly recommend listening to [Palms by Rationale](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwpTDIinsCk) while reading :)

* * *

 

Neil was really far, far too much to handle, Andrew reflected. He watched coolly as Neil traced his fingertips over Andrew’s hand.

He dipped into the creases of his palm, soft enough to tickle. He circled the edges of calluses. He felt out the bones hidden just under the skin. He tapped over knuckles and the hills and valleys of the back of his hand. He mapped out the occasional mole and each tiny freckle as if marking constellations. He made a journey of each finger, starting at the bottom knuckle and squeezing until he could map out the complicated structure, then moving up in tiny circles until he got to the bitten-down beds and blunt nails. They were free of polish today, but he was considering going for metallic purple next time. Partly just for Kevin and Aaron’s reactions, partly for Neil’s much more pleasant reaction, but mostly because he found he liked it.

His hands had always been ugly things to him. Weapons, tools, useless things unless they were protecting someone else. Especially useless when he tried protecting himself.

They were always covered in bruises and he usually had his knuckles wrapped from his frequent sparring with Renee. Scrapes and cuts were normal; he wasn’t too careful with his body in general, didn’t really care if he scraped up against walls or got shoved in crowds. His knuckles were bony and covered in old scars, and his fingers were the ugly kind of thick where they bulged like small sausages and wouldn’t press together without splaying out. His palms were wide and rough and honestly he didn’t know how Neil could stand getting jerked off without lube when the calluses and leathery skin had to be unpleasant at best. His wrists used to be thin and delicate until he started working out more and built up his arms with all the weightlifting. He never remembered to moisturise so his skin was tight-feeling, stretched over his bones, with dry patches and occasional eczema breakouts.

The only thing he liked about his hands, usually, was remembering the good they’d done. These hands had done the work to Tilda’s car to keep Aaron safe. These hands had kept those assholes from hurting Nicky. These hands had never touched another boy without consent, had brought pleasure to those he wanted to feel it. He’d taught himself to enjoy his own touch thinking about other boys and not feel ashamed. These hands had shown Neil so much, had cradled him when injured and managed to touch his scars gently. These hands had wielded the racquet that broke Riko’s arm and kept Neil safe. These hands remembered the feeling of Neil’s hair.

As he watched, Neil bent his neck to press his lips slowly, gently, almost reverently, to the centre of his palm.

“It’s just a hand,” Andrew said roughly, annoyed and disarmed and hating everything.

“It’s your hand,” Neil blinked up at him. “Will you let me kiss over it?”

Andrew scowled but relaxed his fingers and lifted his hand in permission. Neil grinned and slowly licked wherever his fingertips had been, then kissed everywhere just for good measure. His lips were warm and soft and left playful little kisses. He sucked and nibbled gently and eased his tongue in slow swipes over his palm. He hummed and smiled and looked far too nice and soft, with his hair flopping forward and his eyelashes brushing his cheeks and Andrew’s hoodie hanging loose on him.

“I like your hands,” Neil murmured after a while. “They make me feel safe.”

Oh.

He curled his fingers around Neil’s chin as he kissed all over them and shivered a little at the hot puffs of Neil’s breath over his damp skin. Maybe his hands didn’t look so ugly with Neil’s pretty mouth on them. Maybe he could add that to his list of good things. Maybe, with some nail polish and a few kisses, he could see his hands as something… good. Useful. Likable.

Maybe.

Neil would have to keep kissing for him to find out. Luckily, it didn’t seem like he’d want to stop anytime soon.


	20. Kitten Pile

Wow I forgot to update this at the time but I did a bunch more prompts in September, so here's a quick glut of updates ^^'

 

Prompt for a bunch of kittens sleeping on Andrew, a very pure concept. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164904458303/prompt-andrews-reaction-to-a-bunch-of-kittens#notes). Sick!fic and warnings for generalised sickness and vomiting. Post-canon domesticicity.

* * *

 

He’d been feeling under the weather for about a week. He’d tried bulling through it by replacing his blood with orange juice and necking ibuprofen at regular intervals, but his traitor body was determined to be miserable. He developed a gross, wet cough and a wastepaper bin full of phlegmy tissues. He’d had a fever for a few days and had been lost in a frightening limbo of exhaustion, brain-fog and shivers that wracked his body so hard he couldn’t hold a mug of coffee without shaking it out of the mug, and scorching sweats that made him feel like he was drowning and baking all at once. He’d been very generously excused from work seeing as he couldn’t stand without tipping over or breathe without choking, and the team nurse had been round to check on him and give him antibiotics.

Neil had been looking after him, mostly. When Andrew had protested, saying that Neil would get sick too and then he’d be too pissy to deal with, but Neil had just smiled in that particular way of his and said he didn’t want to be anywhere else. It had been a nice moment until Andrew threw up into the bin full of tissues and coughed up what felt like part of his lung afterward. But even then, eyes streaming and throat burning and nose dripping while he shuddered and tried not to fall on his face, Neil had sat next to him and stroked gently through his disgusting, sweaty hair, and promised to get more tissues at the store.

Andrew didn’t feel all that lucky to be so sick, but he maybe felt a little lucky that Neil was there with him through it.

Except now Neil had left his side and Andrew was trying not to feel irrationally upset about it. He’d gone out to the supermarket instead of just the corner shop, to do a proper restock seeing as they were all out of everything, and he would take about an hour. Andrew thought he might stop somewhere to grab a couple minutes of fresh air to himself; it wouldn’t have been pleasant to be stuck at Andrew’s side all week in a stuffy apartment reeking of sickness. Andrew had promised he would try and sleep while Neil was gone, but he’d entered a fun stage of his illness he was calling ‘peach skin’. It meant that everything felt harsh enough on his skin to bruise or bleed, no matter how soft the blankets or how gentle Neil’s fingers, and the hair on his arms was stuck right up as if he had a chill even though he actually felt way too hot. Trying to sleep had been awful; every way he lay down made his bones and back ache, and he couldn’t stand having even the blankets touch his bare skin.

So he was left to twitch and fidget miserably, on his own, feeling like shit and waiting for Neil to come back. And he knew it was stupid and just a side-effect of the fever making him woozy, but he felt almost abandoned and far too lonely. Neil had only gone out for an hour, for fuck’s sake. He was more than entitled to a bit of alone time after the past week. Andrew respected his space. And he was only getting groceries, no need to start pining like a little dog at the window. He told himself to calm down and stop getting frustrated and upset at being left to suffer on his own. He bit down hard on his lower lip and winced at the unexpected pain of it.

He managed to fumble for the bottle of water Neil had left on the bedside table and hauled himself vaguely upright against the pillows to take a few sips. He sternly told himself to get a grip and amuse himself, but he was too out of it to concentrate on his book and the cartoons he tried watching on a tablet just gave him a headache.

He was settling into a really good sulk about the whole thing when there was an enquiring  _chrrrp_  at the door, then a fluffy body ambled her way in. He raised his eyebrows at King – she’d had her litter a few days before he got sick and had sequestered herself and her new brood in the spare room since then, along with Sir who’d been acting like a nanny and bodyguard. Nicky kept insisting they had adopted lesbian cats and Andrew didn’t entirely disagree. Neil had been refreshing the litter trays, water and food bowls respectively even while looking after Andrew. It had surprised Andrew at first, seeing as Neil was terrible at looking after himself, but he did a lot better with the rest of his family.

“Hello,” he mumbled at her as she sat and looked up at him expectantly. “How’s motherhood?”

She flicked her tail a little and slowly blinked at him. He slowly blinked back, his eyes more than heavy enough to hold the expression.

“You look well,” he continued rambling, uncaring about chatting to his cat as if he liked her. As long as Nicky or Allison weren’t around to witness him ‘being a big softie’, as Nicky had said, he didn’t mind showing that he liked them. They were good cats, and he respected their general attitudes in life; feed when hungry, nap when tired, attack when offended. And on the worst days when he didn’t want to get out of bed at all, knowing he  _had_  to get up to feed them helped him take the first steps. “I’m not very well right now. But you seem happy. How are the kittens? Neil says they look cute, but he’d say that about possum babies covered in trash. So I guess they could be little monster fluffs. Carrying on the family legacy. I wouldn’t be surprised. You still haven’t told us which tom knocked you up, missy. Don’t think I forgot, I need to have a talk with him about responsibility. Is he giving you child support?”

She listened to him with her head cocked to the side and her tail waving serenely on the floor. She twitched in alarm when he started coughing again, and hopped up onto the bed and nudged his hand until he stroked over the top of her head.

“Neil’s gone out,” Andrew told her, his voice getting raspy from the abuse he’d been putting it through. “Sorry. Stuck with me. It’s been weird not seeing you two. I bet that room stinks just as bad as this one now, huh. Kittens and cat pee versus sweat and vomit. Which one is more rank. Find out, next Friday at eight PM on channel five.”

She meowed agreeably and demanded a few more pets from him in the pushy way Andrew found amusing. Once she was done with that, though, she calmly wandered out again. Andrew sighed. Even the cat didn’t want to sit with him. He supposed he wasn’t great company though.

He sat and stared at the wall for a while, drifting in and out of thought and slowly sliding down to lie crumpled on his side. It felt better being more horizontal. It made his head feel less heavy. He felt more than a little pathetic at being unable to even sit up properly, but he honestly felt too awful to care.

Some time later, he heard soft paws on wooden floors and a quiet chorus of peeps and mewls heading his way. He cracked open his eyes and saw the bewhiskered portion of his family coming into the room, moms and new babies together. They were about as steady on their feet as Andrew was, though they had tiny wiggly tails to help them out. Sir and King nudged the last stragglers into the room and kept doing a kind of sound-off of meows to count all the kittens and make sure no one was left behind. Then, King started gently grabbing each kitten by the scruff and lifting them up onto the bed until Andrew had a whole troop of tiny cats happily exploring the bed. He could feel their tiny claws flexing experimentally through the blankets and watched as they stumbled and tried to climb him. Sir and King came up too, and rounded up their kittens between themselves and Andrew’s chest.

King curled up right against him and meowed contentedly. He sighed into her soft fur and gently stroked her side. He could feel her starting a low purr, deep in her chest and vibrating through them both. The kittens started pushing at her for milk, so she flopped on her side much like her sick owner. She closed her eyes and let her weight rest back against Andrew, warm and heavy and soft. The kittens peeped and mewled happily, making little suckling noises every so often. Once they were all satisfied, Sir took over washing them, holding them in place with firm paws and a gentle tongue. Then the lot of them curled up with Andrew and King and started napping.

Andrew could feel his own eyelids growing heavy and the ache in his body being soothed by the little cat furnaces laying with him. Their breathing was quiet and hushed, and King’s low purr was a song of comfort. Her fur was silky enough that it didn’t hurt his skin and it was hard to feel lonely with about ten cats next to you. The lot of them had such a mass of body heat that the sticky clods in his chest started to loosen, and his breathing got a little easier.

“Thank you,” he mumbled drowsily to King, who kept purring and gently nuzzled his cheek. “Good cat.”


	21. Spills & Thrills

Prompt for Neil making Andrew laugh, for daf. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164905965618/wildsfoxes-replied-to-your-post-hey-so-i-really#notes). Post-canon domestic fluff C:

* * *

 

“How would I have known that?” Neil said, scowling down at the pan.

“Because it’s basic common sense,” Andrew replied calmly as he waved dishtowels near the windows, trying to get the stink of burnt food out of the apartment. “Boiling something involves water.”

“But I did put water in it!” Neil insisted.

“And then you left it to boil dry.”

“But that’s how you know it’s done!” Neil said indignantly. “When all the water has been absorbed. That means the rice is fully cooked and safe to eat.”

“There’s a difference between rice reaching saturation point and leaving it boiling long enough for all the water to evaporate and the rice to burn on the bottom.”

Neil scowled again and tried once more to scrape the caked-on mess on the bottom of the pan into the bin. Andrew kept wafting his towel, feeling vaguely like he was seeing off some sweetheart on a long voyage at sea, or fanning some pharaoh with a palm leaf or something equally ridiculous.

“I’m not stupid,” Neil muttered eventually.

“I know.”

“I’m not some kind of confused baby,” Neil carried on, blinking rapidly and glaring at the pan. “I know how to cook. Sometimes things just – go wrong, and I don’t know why.”

Andrew tossed the towel onto the counter and joined him over the bin. He curled his fingers around the hem at the back of Neil’s shirt. “I’ll tell you why. You either obsess too much and mess up the timings, or get distracted and wander off. There’s no middle ground with you.”

“Oh,” Neil replied, his frustration washed away until he sounded a bit sheepish. “You think so?”

Andrew hummed and pressed a light kiss to Neil’s cheek, making him jump. “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Andrew sighed tragically.

“You’re lucky you’re…” Neil started, then trailed off. He couldn’t seem to find the right response, which made a nice change. He just stood there, frowning in serious concentration as he flicked through his mental list of snappy comebacks.

“Any day now. Is your brain burning?”

“I lost my train of thought. You really think I’m pretty?” Neil said, instead of the insult he’d been going for.

Andrew couldn’t help it; he snorted in the back of his throat. It startled him just as much as Neil and they both jumped about three feet. Andrew hadn’t genuinely laughed sober since he was twelve. It felt almost alarming, such an involuntary reaction after years of careful repression and a numbing apathy.

Neil stared back at him with wide eyes. Andrew stayed stock still, trying to get a handle on the sudden rush of panic in his chest at the lack of control, sour memories of Drake tickling him lurking ready to pounce if he let down his guard. Neil blinked a few times and then said, with a forced casualness, “You didn’t answer my question. Is there another prize like the one for shutting you up? I liked that prize.”

Andrew let himself breathe. It was all normal, all fine, nothing to see here folks.

“As I recall, the prize for that was a long drop, a short stop and a longer stay six feet under.” His voice was a little unsteady but they both pretended not to notice.

“No,” Neil smiled, “I think that was the runner up to a very nice kiss.”

Andrew fixed him with a cool glare, then held the back of his neck and pulled him close enough that when he spoke, their lips brushed together. “This is not a reward.” And then he swallowed Neil’s sigh and lost himself in the oblivion of their kiss. He knew Neil heard the real answer –  _this is a thank you_.


	22. Silent, But Snarky

Prompt for a sneak-preview of an AU I have on a backburner involving Foxes with disabilities. This will be developed more later but here's a first little peek :) Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164907312513/gunsintheground-replied-to-your-post-hey-so-i#notes). Featuring mute Neil and autistic-spec, deaf Andrew. Slight warnings for vague ableism.

* * *

 

Neil had decided he didn’t like this lecturer when the guy had sneered at a girl sitting a few rows in front when her phone buzzed briefly. She’d apologised and put it in her bag so she wouldn’t be distracted by it, but that wasn’t enough to appease the lecturer apparently. He’d gone on for a couple minutes in a passive-aggressive totally-not-a-rant about basic courtesy and how little of it there was going around these days. Then he’d gone back to maths, thankfully.

Neil had even been enjoying the lecture, taking notes and writing down the homework questions in his notebook. He’d always liked maths; the simple satisfaction in knowing there was  _one_  correct answer and it was just a matter of applying the right techniques to solve it. He thought even with this dick of a lecturer, he might actually start to like college for more than the Exy scholarship.

Until he got called on.

“Come on now, interact with me a little,” the lecturer grumbled. “Someone from the middle, tell me what the next step in this solution. Any takers? No? … Alright…. you, sonny, in the Exy hoodie. Are you an athlete or a mathlete? Answer the question.”

Neil immediately started typing on his text-to-speech app on his phone, excited to know the answer and to be able to respond.

“Get off your phone!” The lecturer yelled. “I called on you, answer the question!”

Neil glanced up at him helplessly, his stomach clenching as he realised the whole class had turned to stare at him. He typed faster, erasing his maths answer to try for an explanation. The lecturer apparently saw this as an act of rebellion and started walking towards him menacingly.

“The rudeness!” He was saying. “I am talking to you young man, and you will answer me when I’m talking to you!”

Neil opened his mouth in a panic and  _tried_ , oh God he tried, but all that came out through his severed vocal chords was an odd wheeze. If anything that just made the guy angrier.

“Laugh at me, will you? You won’t be laughing when I confiscate your phone.”

Neil clutched it desperately and tried not to run out the door.

“Hey,” said a new, slow voice. “Asshole lecturer.”

The whole class turned to look at the corner of the room and the unimpressive, small form of one Andrew Minyard. Neil blinked; he hadn’t realised his teammate was in this class too. He was dressed in all-black as usual, and he seemed to be looking off over the lecturer’s shoulder instead of at his face. His voice was just as strange as the few times Neil had heard him speak before; slow and unsteady as if afraid of fumbling the words, with a long delay between syllables and odd inflections. Sometimes he sounded like he was asking a question because of the different tone, and sometimes he put emphasis on unusual parts of words so it was hard to understand him immediately.

As the class stared at him, Neil watched as Minyard’s hand crept up to fiddle absently with one of his clunky, battered-looking hearing aids.

“He’s mute,” Minyard said carefully. “He can’t talk. Let him type.”

A dead silence filled the room and the lecturer turned pale. Eventually, he turned back to Neil and tried on a sick-looking smile. “Neil Josten, is it?”

Neil nodded uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of his high-necked shirt that hid the gruesome scar snaking across his throat. He hated people asking questions about it.

“Ah,” the lecturer said weakly. “Yes, I had a note from Coach Wymack… ah… my apologies, Mr Josten.”

He started to hurry back to the front of the room, embarrassed at his error. Neil quickly rewrote what he wanted to say and pressed the button that let him talk.

“ _I know the answer to the question,”_ a man’s robotic voice said for him from the app, Hawking-style. “ _If you still want it.”_

The lecturer looked more than a little mortified but tried to smile again. “Uh, go ahead, sonny. Take your time.”

Neil didn’t need to take his time. He let the answer roll out at full volume and was more than a little gratified when the lecturer simply wrote it on the board for the rest of them to copy and proceeded to the next question.

When he was sure no one was looking, Neil snuck another look at Minyard who met his eyes blankly. Neil still wasn’t sure if either of the twins knew ASL as he’d never caught them at it, but Neil figured most people knew a basic ‘thank you’. Neil brought his hand up to his chin and then away again. "Thanks."

Minyard blinked slowly for a minute, then mirrored it back to him. "You're welcome."Then he added a bit of sauce.  __"Eyes front, idiot."

Neil grinned in satisfaction and obediently got back to work. Maybe this whole team thing would work out alright after all.


	23. Team Spirit

Prompt for drunk!Kevin loving his teammates for moonix. I can't write drunk stuff so I altered it slightly c: Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164913395583/quick-prompts-here-u-go-1-drunk-kevin-having-an#notes). Post-canon by one year, the girls' last year. 

* * *

 

There were few sounds as amazing as the ending buzzer on a game they’d just won. It rang out brash and unforgiving, vibrating through the air just a second before the screams of the crowd filtered through the vents in the plexiglass, never mind the triumphant whoops of Kevin’s teammates.

He heard Dan and Matt screaming excitedly as they leapt into each other’s arms and saw Allison and Renee and Nicky running onto the court with the subs. Dan joined the other girls and the three of them collapsed in a yelling, crying heap, arms around each other and holding tight. Kevin watched as the cousins greeted each other and Nicky gave both twins enthusiastic high-fives while he yelled his head off. He watched as Andrew smirked just a little behind the grate of his helmet and twirled his racquet, accepting whatever acerbic praise Aaron had for him. He watched as Neil jogged exhaustedly back to him, grinning so hard his face might split and viciously triumphant with every stride.

Kevin nodded vaguely at the excited freshmen; they all had a long way to go, but they’d done very well for their first season. Kevin joined everyone else as they came to rest around the girls’ huddle.

“We won,” Dan was sobbing, her hair sticking up in sweaty tufts once free of her helmet. “We won, we won.”

“Going on out a high, baby!” Allison yelled, as wild as he’d ever seen their ‘princess’.

“It’s been such a pleasure playing with you both,” Renee choked, her hands shaking as she wiped her eyes. “It’s gone so fast.”

Kevin felt his throat clench as he looked around at the huddle of the Foxes. That had been the girls’ last ever match, and they’d managed to win the championship for the second year running. Going out on a high indeed, for girls who’d joined a team everyone said was destined for the trash can even before they joined. He thought about Dan taking in his injury and his baggage and telling him he’d be welcome on their line, never hesitating to tell him when he was spitting Raven bullshit, and chewing him out for hurting Wymack. He thought of Renee’s gentle determination to keep the peace on their volatile team and to better herself and others by example and by deed, never shying away from the hard work or gritty details. He thought of Allison, proud and unrelenting and refusing to let anyone dictate how she should feel or act.

“Foxes!” He barked, making them all jump. “Three cheers for our seniors!”

The Foxes yelled so hard Kevin saw their opponents wince and stumble back from the wall of noise. Kevin looked around at his teammates, joyful and fierce and exhausted and full of a love they’d never been able to show elsewhere.

 _I love this team_ , he thought, and watched the girls proudly accept the championship trophy as a beaming, glorious trio.


	24. Like Riding A Bicycle?

Prompt for Neil learning how to ride a bike, for moonix :D Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164913395583/quick-prompts-here-u-go-1-drunk-kevin-having-an#notes). Vaguely post-canon.

* * *

 

“I’m not used to driving automatics,” Neil had said when Allison offered to let him drive her convertible. “I learned stick-shift in Europe, and I haven’t driven an auto for years, so…”

“Oh it’s easy,” Allison assured him with a ruffle of his hair. “It’ll be like riding a bike. Though we’ll get into the underage driving thing later.”

Neil had got stuck on the first part of that sentence, Matt observed. He’d blinked a few times. “While we’re on the topic, I’ve never actually ridden a bike.”

And so, an hour later, Matt found himself gently pushing the seat while Neil pedalled and tried not to fall off the bike they’d rented.

“This doesn’t feel stable,” Neil complained as the bike wobbled.

“It stabilises the faster you go,” Matt explained as he pushed. “And you need to pedal more to keep the momentum going. I’m gonna let go in a minute and let you go solo, okay?”

“No,” Neil said quickly, fumbling the handlebars a little as he tried to turn around to look at Matt. “Don’t let go, I’ll fall.”

“You won’t fall,” Matt assured him. “Just pedal and keep the handlebars parallel so you move in a straight line. Squeeze the brakes to stop, and take one foot off to balance when you stop. Got all that?”

Neil took a deep breath and pedalled a little harder. “Okay. Let go.”

Matt gave him one last push, then let go of the seat and stood back. “You can do it, Neil!”

Neil made a strangled, panicked sound as the bike wobbled again, but he pedalled harder and pulled on the handlebars to straighten out. The upperclassmen and Nicky cheered from the sidelines, and Matt let out a loud whoop.

“Look at him go!” Matt yelled. “You’re doing great, kiddo!”

“I don’t like this!” Neil called back distantly from halfway across the parking lot.

“Just turn around and come back then!” Matt yelled, smiling fondly. They watched as Neil made a very wide, loopy turn and made his way back to them, weaving a bit but still moving forwards when he didn’t concentrate too hard on his hands.

Matt grinned and applauded with the others as Neil came to a shaky stop in front of them, looking pale and sweaty.

“You’ll be a BMX pro in no time,” Matt promised him, and was rewarded by Neil’s shy, pleased little smile.


	25. #PSLs4life

Prompt for Andrew and Renee going out for their secret guilty pleasure - pumpkin spice lattes; for moonix. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164913395583/quick-prompts-here-u-go-1-drunk-kevin-having-an#notes). Vaguely nsfw mentions.

* * *

 

“Two pumpkin spice lattes, please,” Renee smiled pleasantly at the barista while Andrew fidgeted at her side, eyeing the platters of cookies and cakes in the glass case and trying to figure out if he wanted one because he was hungry or just because they looked good. A few years off the meds and a lot more therapy and he was getting better at recognising his wants and emotions when they arrived, but most of the time they still confused him and he didn’t get how other people just dealt with it all the time. He found it exhausting.

“We could split a cheesecake slice,” Renee suggested, catching the direction of his gaze. “I won’t tell Kevin if you won’t.”

Andrew nodded after a moment, and the barista served it up for them with a smile. “Any special occasion for the coffee?” She asked whimsically as she got their order ready.

“Oh, no,” Renee said calmly. “The rest of our friends just prefer plain coffee.”

“Boring of them,” the barista said. “I have a soft spot for seasonal drinks too. What names shall I put on the cups, hun?”

“Renee and Andrew, thank you.”

“Renee is a beautiful name,” the barista said, fluttering her eyelashes a little.

“Oh,” Renee said with a quick little laugh, her cheeks going a bit pink. She squinted at the barista’s name tag. “Thank you… Miri?”

“Got it in one, hun,” Miri smiled. “Those drinks’ll be right up.”

Andrew watched with vague interest as Renee tried not to watch the barista too obviously. When she realised Andrew was watching her, she blushed harder and fixed her eyes on the cakes instead. Andrew felt his lips twitch but said nothing, content to see how this might play out.

“Anyway, I was thinking we could go out for a movie on Saturday,” she said as if they hadn’t stopped talking. “I liked the look of that new action flick, what do you think?”

“Sure,” Andrew shrugged. “I’ll get the food.”

Renee smiled and they chatted for a minute about upcoming movies until their drinks were ready. Renee paid the barista, who was smiling widely at her and completely ignoring Andrew. Andrew just scooped up the cake and his cup while Renee tipped her change into the charity jar by the till.

“Let’s sit outside,” Andrew suggested.

Renee looked a little surprised; they usually took their drinks to the green, but acquiesced when Andrew settled on a low wall right outside the coffee shop, in full view of the windows. And the till. He let her ramble about the movies some more, watching how she kept glancing back through the windows when she thought he was busy sipping or eating his half of the cheesecake.

“She was flirting with you,” Andrew pointed out bluntly after yet another little glance. “Did she write her number on your cup?”

“She was not,” Renee said quickly. “And no, she didn’t.”

“On the receipt, then.”

“No.”

“She chickened out,” Andrew said, and rolled his eyes when Renee started babbling nervously. “Why are you getting stammery? Just flirt back if you’re interested.”

“It’s not that simple…”

“Why not? Just say you think she’s hot or whatever.” Andrew advised coolly.

“I don’t think that would work,” Renee disagreed bashfully.

“It worked for me,” Andrew shrugged.

“You told him you wanted to give him a blowjob,” Renee smiled.

“And it worked. Eventually.”

That made her laugh, at least. “That’s not quite my style, but thank you for the advice anyway.”

Andrew toasted her with his mostly-empty cup and turned the conversation back to an earlier topic of the existence of life on other planets. They had a good go of it for about an hour, and Andrew could cautiously surmise he was enjoying himself. It was a good fall day, all brisk wind and crunchy leaves but not so cold they couldn’t enjoy sitting outside in their coats. And the seasonal drinks were starting again, and Hallowe’en and Eden’s yearly event and all the huge bags of cheap candy were just around the corner. And he enjoyed his time with Renee, just talking about nothing too much, but enjoying how her mind worked and how they often came up with similar ideas. He liked debating with her; she never got angry, and he was never so attached to a viewpoint to get defensive, so they usually managed a good variety of positions to argue from.

After about an hour, he called a pause so he could use the restroom in the café. When he came out after, he caught the eye of that barista and made his way over.

She sighed when she saw him. “Okay, sweet power move or whatever with sitting outside on your date, sorry for hitting on your girl, have a nice day.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Andrew said calmly. “But she would like your number.”

She blinked at him, her mouth falling open in a surprised O.

“Unless you’ve lost interest in her?”

“No, no, she’s definitely still gorgeous and sweet,” Miri laughed as she scrambled for a pen and a piece of paper.

Andrew tucked it into his pocket. “Be nice to her. She gets shy.”

Miri grinned and blushed while her colleagues made silly  _ooooh_  noises. “I will.”

Andrew nodded and made his way back outside. He handed the paper over to Renee, who stared at him in shock.

“I didn’t want you to spend the next week moping and sighing that you didn’t ask her for it,” Andrew said blankly. “So there you go.”

Renee looked down at the number and beamed softly. “Maybe a more direct approach isn’t so bad after all.”

 


	26. Bon Appetit

Prompt of Neil surprising the others by being a good cook, for moonix. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164913395583/quick-prompts-here-u-go-1-drunk-kevin-having-an#notes). 

* * *

 

“This is actually… really good,” Nicky mumbled through a mouthful of noodles and sauce. “When did you learn to cook, Neil?”

Neil frowned as he took a bite as well. “When I was ten.”

“Um, what?”

“When I was ten, me and Mom were hiding out somewhere in Germany, and we stayed at this hotel for a couple months,” Neil explained with a shrug. “We couldn’t get me enrolled in school, so I spent a lot of time hanging around while she got us money. I made friends with the kitchen staff, picked up a few things.”

“But you always burn everything,” Kevin protested even as he inhaled his bowl.

“Not  _always_ ,” Neil protested. “I’m rusty, and a bit clumsy sometimes. But I  _know_ what to do. I just need practice.”

“Keep practising then,” Andrew muttered, and Neil blinked at him in surprise. Andrew normally preferred sweet over savoury, but his bowl was already clean when the others were still only a few bites in. It put a rush in his chest like scoring the winning point, and he knew he must be smiling all sappy if Andrew was glaring at him like  _that_ , but he didn’t say anything in front of the others.

“I will,” he said happily, and watched with a great sense of satisfaction as his dorm-mates consumed every speck of his meal, and even Kevin had nothing to criticise. 


	27. Wait For Me

Prompt for Andrew having a nightmare about Neil being taken, for tycutiovevo. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164928524703/quick-prompt-maybe-andrew-having-a-nightmare#notes). Warnings for angst, injury, violence, death, and Baltimore-related stuff. Also *angst*.

* * *

They were just pushing a trolley around the supermarket, plucking stuff of the shelves and bickering vaguely about what should or shouldn’t make it up to the tills. Neil picked a new helmet off the fresh produce aisle and Andrew just rolled his eyes and nabbed some cigarettes from in between the cereals. When he turned back around, Neil wasn’t there by the lawnmowers anymore. Andrew frowned and pushed the trolley into the next aisle.

“Neil?” He called, though his voice sounded wobbly like he was underwater.

“I’m over here.”

Andrew abandoned the trolley and slipped through a gap in the shelving. “Neil?”

“Over here.”

The lights flickered and Andrew jerked as if he’d been punched in the face. “Neil?”

“Over here. Come on, keep up.”

“Slow down,” Andrew asked tightly, shoving his way through shelving and lawn equipment and dodging falling cans of soup. “Slow down Neil, I need more time…”

“You gotta keep up or you’ll get left behind.”

Andrew flinched back from a giant box of Exy gloves and shoved the next rack of food over, clambering over the wreckage. “Don’t leave me behind.”

“Meet me at Court!”

“I don’t want to,” Andrew protested. “Neil, stay with me, come back, please…”

“Come on, catch up, you know where I’m going.”

“Come back…”

“Keep up or you’ll miss me!”

“Neil…” Andrew found himself sobbing as he fought through a barrage of falling food and Exy equipment, bodies slamming into him and yelling for a second before they changed back to packets of raw meat and garbage, broken glass under his bare feet and digging, digging, digging into his arms and hands. He slipped on the linoleum made slick by blood and spilled alcohol. “Neil come back, you promised you’d stay with me.”

“If you can’t keep up just wait behind, okay?”

“Neil, just slow down,  _please_ , I need more time…”

He fought through a wall of backliners and old therapists and finally! Neil was there, standing on the wooden floor of the national Court with Kevin, chatting up some reporters. He wasn’t even looking back to Andrew.

“Yeah, we’re really excited to finally be here!” Neil was saying enthusiastically, a star in the spotlight, right where he belonged.

“What about Minyard?” Kathy Ferdinand asked with a shark’s smile. “Where’s he on your line? Wasn’t he amazing?”

“Oh yeah, him. He  _was_  amazing,” Neil shrugged carelessly. “Once.”

“We don’t need deadbeats on our line,” Kevin agreed, and the two of them clacked racquets and walked to their starting spots.

“I’m here now,” Andrew told them, skidding a little on bloody feet. They seemed to be growing taller, older, or maybe he was just getting smaller. “I’m here too.”

They didn’t hear him. Someone else was standing in goal, someone else was holding Neil’s hand, someone else was talking Kevin through a panic attack.

“Neil? I’m here. I caught up. You said you’d stay with me.”

He didn’t even look at Andrew, just grinned and nodded an enthusiastic  _yes_  to someone holding a knife to his throat, laughing and moaning as the blood sprayed out. Andrew felt it on his face, harsh and sticky. He tried running forwards, but rioters were holding his arms back and keeping him still, and more hands were roaming, clutching, grabbing…

“Neil,” he sobbed, watching helplessly as the life drained out of him, turning him sepia then black and white.

“Tch,” someone said from behind Andrew. He turned and saw a meaner, harder, older version of Neil standing with a bloody knife. “Too slow.”

Andrew’s eyes snapped open to the dark of the dorm room and he scrambled at the side of the bed for the light, smacking his wrist on the edge of the table until he found it. He overbalanced and fell to the floor with a painful crash, shaking so hard he felt like he was in a blender, his breath harsh and scorching in his chest.

He heard the rest of the room stirring, Nicky and Kevin asking bleary questions or complaining about the light.

“Andrew?” Neil’s voice was gentle, sweet, calming. Andrew couldn’t look away from the light, not wanting to see if he was bloody and greyscale after all. As long as he stared at the lightbulb, he would be okay. “Andrew, you’re safe. You’re in our dorm room. It’s three AM on April fifth. You’re safe.”

“Nightmare, buddy?” Nicky asked tiredly.

“Turn off the fucking light,” Kevin groaned, not really conscious.

Andrew reached one shaking hand back in the direction of Neil’s voice. Neil took it firmly, squeezing his fingers and rubbing his thumb over the back of Andrew’s hand. Andrew twisted his fingers until he could reach Neil’s wrist and pressed them firmly against his pulse point. There, there, his heartbeat. It thudded,  _one_ -two.  _A_ -live.  _A_ -live.  _A_ -live.

“I’m here,” Neil said quietly, pressing Andrew’s hand more firmly over his wrist.  

“I was too slow,” someone choked out, and Andrew vaguely realised it was him. “You left me. You died.”

There was a sad sound from somewhere in Nicky’s direction but Andrew ignored it. Neil gently pulled on his arm until Andrew sat up. Neil gestured vaguely, and Andrew slumped against his side. Neil murmured if it was okay to put his arm around Andrew, who nodded and breathed a little easier once he could feel Neil and hold him close. Neil moved their hands up to his throat and pressed Andrew’s fingers against his carotid. Andrew closed his eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on matching his ragged breathing to the steady thrum of Neil’s pulse.

“I’m right here,” Neil said firmly. “I’m not leaving, and I’m definitely not dying. It’s okay.”

“Don’t leave me behind,” he rasped. Later, he’d hate that Nicky and Kevin were witnessing such weakness, hate that even Neil was witnessing it, but right then he just needed to know that this was something he could keep, someone to keep him too and not throw him away once all his uses had been burned through.

“No one’s leaving you,” Neil assured him, and kissed his temple gently. Andrew shuddered and told himself to believe it, because Neil had promised never to lie to him again. And Neil kept his promises, no matter what Andrew’s subconscious thought. It was okay. He was okay.


	28. Sugary Sweet

Prompt for Andrew and Neil debating about ice cream, for aristple. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164929260643/aristptle-andrew-and-neil-in-the-ice-cream-aisle#notes).

* * *

“Oh fuck off,” Andrew muttered and tugged his hood further over his head to muffle the buzzing of the fluorescent lights against the still midnight air.

“What?” Neil smiled innocently.

“Don’t give me that. You know exactly what.”

“Well, it just so  _happens_  to be a certain date and I just so  _happen_  to want these particular flavours… what of it?”

Andrew glared at him, but it was a pale shadow of his usual, undercut by the bags under his eyes and the slouchy track pants he was wearing as pyjamas, and hadn’t bothered to change. “You’re insufferable. You don’t even like ice cream.”

“I like these ones,” Neil insisted with a little smile. “Good memories.”

“Ugh,” Andrew sighed and rolled his eyes, even if it made his stomach tingle a bit. He’d be lying if he didn’t associate those flavours with Neil and a certain kiss either, but he wasn’t going to admit that. He put both cartons in the basket and some sorbet to stop Kevin’s inevitable whining.

“Hey,” Neil smiled, reaching out to lightly tug at his sleeve. “Can I have a kiss?”

“I suppose,” Andrew mumbled, and pulled him closer by his hip. It was a slow one, a soft one that made them both ache, one they could have kept going for hours if they were alone. As it was, Andrew was cold and tired and wanted to go home. He pulled back but didn’t go very far, distracted by the way Neil nudged into his cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth, sweet and quick. He lightly squeezed Neil’s hip and slipped his fingers under the hem of Neil’s hoodie for a minute, feeling his warm skin.

“Let’s go home,” Neil sighed contentedly and kissed along the ridge of Andrew’s cheekbone. “I think I’ll be able to sleep now.”

Andrew hummed agreement and kissed his lower lip once more before pulling back properly and heading to the tills. It was too cold in the freezer aisle, though hopefully Neil wouldn’t mind if Andrew warmed his hands up on his skin before they went back to bed. From the shy smile Neil sent his way when they got back in the car, Andrew knew it would be a yes. 


	29. Kiss It Better?

Prompt for Andrew and Neil being SoftTM in front of the other Foxes. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/164931431953/hello-ily-and-ur-writing-so-much-for-a-prompt#notes). Fun fact, I was going to add this into the last chapter of Trust Fall but thought it disrupted the flow too much, so have it here c: Warnings for a broken nose and blood in general.

* * *

“Let me see,” Andrew insisted as soon as they got back to the locker rooms.

“It’s really not that bad,” Neil burbled through a mouth of blood, pinching his nose to try and stop the fountain streaming down into his mouth. “Ew.”

“If that’s your new version of ‘I’m fine’, I am not a fan.” Andrew told him firmly and chucked off his court gloves to free his hands to cup Neil’s face. Neil went still and pliant in his hands, submitting to the inspection quietly. Andrew gently turned his face this way and that, seeing the swelling all around his nose and the puffiness of his eyes that would promise a real panda impression soon enough. “I think it’s broken.”

“Great,” Neil muttered. One of the freshmen went to hurry Abby along from where she was tending to Dan’s sprained ankle.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Nicky asked sympathetically.

“Kinda,” Neil gritted out.

“Lean forward,” Andrew instructed, pushing gently on the back of his neck. “Don’t swallow the blood.”

“But I’ll just drip on you.”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns right now.”

Neil sighed and did so, leaning forward into Andrew’s chest with his head tilted down. Blood dripped off the edge of his wrist to splatter on Andrew’s shoes and the floor. Andrew lightly held his hip in one hand and his chin in the other, inspecting his face some more. That dealer was a sore loser alright, but there was no need to fire the ball at the wall after the buzzer, when everyone’s helmets were off. Andrew supposed the guy hadn’t been _aiming_  the rebound for Neil’s face, but his nose was still broken and Andrew was still annoyed.

“It looks straight enough,” he commented, and Neil sighed in relief that it wouldn’t have to be reset.

“Ha,” Nicky joked feebly. “For freshman Neil, maybe.”

Nobody even bothered to groan and carried on with getting changed. Andrew rubbed his fingers gently over Neil’s side as they waited for the blood to stop flowing. Abby came bustling in a few moments later and Andrew kept a light hold on Neil’s hip while she carefully cleaned the blood off his face, put some adhesive strips over his face to stop the damaged cartilage moving around and deforming, and handed him an ice pack.

“15 minutes and no more,” she said briskly. “And sleep with your head elevated. If you feel dizzy or concussed, tell me straight away.”

“Yes, Abby,” Neil smiled vaguely.

She smiled back and squeezed his arm. “I’ll get some painkillers for you, sweetheart. And no strenuous activity for two weeks – that means practice, running and kissing too.”

“Let the poor boy have some fun,” Matt laughed. “Andrew should kiss it better for him!”

“You don’t have to, it’s okay, my face hurts too much anyway,” Neil muttered, as Andrew’s hand had tightened reflexively on Neil’s hip. He still didn’t like others teasing them about their relationship, even if Aaron had calmed down a lot recently since flooring that asshole in the last match.

In answer, Andrew pushed on the back of Neil’s head and rose up on his tiptoes just a bit. He pressed his lips to Neil’s uninjured forehead softly, no more than a quick brush, but the effect on the room was astounding. Andrew ignored Nicky’s hysterics and Matt’s cheering and focussed on Neil’s startled, shy expression.

“That’s all the action you’re getting for at least two weeks,” Andrew muttered.

“That’s more than fine,” Neil replied quietly, his ears going a little bit pink. “I liked it.”

Hm, Andrew thought. If they couldn’t kiss like usual for two weeks, maybe forehead kisses would be a good substitute until then. He had a sneaking suspicion it might become a routine, and he didn’t mind the thought at all.


	30. Time Ticks On

Prompt of Neil and Andrew visiting PSU years after graduating, for hazylucozade. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/165413972803/hazylucozade-replied-to-your-post-hey-so-i#notes).

* * *

 

Neil smiled from the doorway as he watched Andrew saunter his way to the microphone setup by the computer running the screen projection, amidst the wild applause of the hundreds of students crammed into the lecture hall.

Andrew’s eyes flicked his way as he clipped on the small microphone and tapped a few keys on the computer to load up his presentation. Neil grinned back at him and offered a thumbs-up. Andrew didn’t respond other than a quick huff that only barely got picked up by the microphone. Then he turned back to face the excited crowd and waited for them to quiet down.

“Hello,” he began in a neutral tone, regarding them as if they were no more interesting or threatening than any opposing strikers on the court. “My name is Andrew Minyard, and I’ve been asked to participate in this alumni week event to talk about the degree and thesis I completed here ten years ago. I will not be answering any questions about Exy, the pro league or the Olympic team, and refuse to do any autographs or anything of that nature – if you’re here for that, get out now.”

Neil covered a grin behind his hand at the shocked silence that rang out from the crowd. A handful of sheepish students skittered out the doors, looking embarrassed.

“Right,” Andrew said once they left. “Through the Exy scholarship headed by the David Wymack Initiative, I majored in Criminology with a focus on juvenile conviction and mental health, and minored in psychology. My final year thesis was about the disproportionate convictions and harsher sentencing of juveniles from the foster care system, and the prevalence of child abuse and mental health issues in these people. I will be answering questions on these topics at the end.”

Neil’s smile stayed firmly in place as he watched Andrew give his lecture with an easy nonchalance, walking lazily to and fro across the front of the lecture hall and clicking through his slides. His voice was calm, his hands were relaxed, his eyes swept the room as if it were all so easy for him to say. Only Neil knew the stress he’d been holding for the past fortnight as he’d planned his talk, how little sleep he’d gotten the previous night. Although he was far from harm and those dangers now, talking openly about them still held power over his fears and nightmares. But he was calm and unruffled, more professional than he ever was with press after games. Perhaps more cold and removed than he had been in a long time, but the students didn’t know him enough to recognise it as a sign of tension.

Neil was very proud.

When Andrew finished most of an hour later, the students gave him a near standing ovation, a couple of whistles and whoops thrown in. They seemed to enjoy his darkly sarcastic way of discussing their subject and the painfully blunt delivery of awful statistics, and the quickly-skated-over allegories of his own childhood. Neil watched Andrew blink up at them for a solid minute, surprise in the perfect freeze of his body like a deer in headlights. He glanced over at Neil, who nodded and gave him another thumbs up.

He watched Andrew give a jerky nod, an awkward “Thank you,” and open the floor for questions. There weren’t all that many and soon he was unclipping the microphone to more applause and heading Neil’s way. He caught Neil’s sleeve on his way past and tugged him out of the corridors and away from the students until they were in open air again. Neil watched him squint against the sudden light, his eyebrows and mouth all scrunched up, his hair riffling in the wind. He took a slow, deep breath and released it. He still had some pale, milky-coffee freckles across his forehead and nose from their vacation to Spain the previous month.

“Okay?” Neil asked quietly.

“Mmhmm. Could do with a drink, my throat’s sore.”

“Let’s see if the campus coffee house is still around then.”

Andrew grunted his approval and casually tangled their fingers together as they walked.

“That was wonderful, by the way,” Neil made sure to tell him as they got lost a little – new buildings, different trees, different paint jobs, old buildings gone or remodelled, new sculptures and altered greens. This was no longer  _their_  campus.

Andrew huffed, because he still had an issue with even indirect praise, but squeezed Neil’s fingers anyway. “When do you have to give the Exy talk?”

“About an hour.”

They managed to find the coffee house after a bit more wandering, and secured a smoothie for Neil and some iced juice blend for Andrew. Andrew seemed happy enough to stay there, watching out the windows with their feet lightly nudging each other every few minutes, but Neil was getting antsy. Andrew gave in with a sigh and allowed himself to be pulled towards the Foxhole Court.

It rose up unapologetically still, as proud as ever. More so, with the boom of Exy’s popularity in recent years and the increased funding PSU had enjoyed with not one but three alumni on the US Olympic squad. There were more food outlets and more merch stands, and Neil navigated through them in wonder, as they no longer had access codes for the athletes’ entrance. It was so blindingly orange and white Neil’s eyes started to burn.

They made their way to the lounge and Neil had to stop and remind himself to breathe.

Dan’s tradition of putting up photos of the team had long surpassed her tenure as captain, it seemed. One entire wall was chock-full of snaps and candids of all the Foxes that had ever been. Neil stared in awe at all the unknown faces smiling out at them – all lost causes given new hope and new ambition, happy and surrounded by family. He drifted towards a particular section in a daze, Andrew’s palm warm against his own.

There they were, his family. They all looked so young, so coltish and wild. He had to smile at the ones of the twins; they looked so soft and round to his eyes, knowing the hard, clean edges that had emerged in later adulthood and the athletic profession acting on Andrew, and the way making life-saving decisions under extreme pressure had tempered Aaron’s rough edges into diamond self-confidence rather than bitter rage. He saw himself, so small and young and skinny and afraid, then scarred and smiling and at ease with his new life. It was startling to see such  _young_ , unfinished versions of his family again. He’d gotten so used to them as they grew up together, growing into their looks and confidence and finding more permanent homes and lives and bringing partners and children and pets into their family. God, he’d almost forgotten Allison used to wear those rhinestone jeans (she’d scream if she saw them now), or that the twins had floppy emo fringes, or Nicky’s high-waisted jean shorts and tiny tees, or Matt’s frosted tips. He’d forgotten Kevin’s shiny tracksuits for morning runs and hangover days, the clips and mini-bows Renee used to wear in her hair, Dan’s long-sleeve shirts under dungarees.

He barely recognised those kids anymore.

Andrew squeezed his hand again to get his attention and pointed at another wall that made Neil’s breath vanish altogether.

It was even more gloriously orange than the rest of the stadium, with the neon windbreakers of every previous Fox in its own display frame. Some of them, like  _Gordon 06_ had small black dots in the corners. His eyes found  _Josten 10_  and  _Minyard 03_ without difficulty. He clutched Andrew’s hand hard enough to make his knuckles creak, but Andrew didn’t pull away.

Those days felt a million years away, yet close enough in this lounge that he half expected Kevin to come in and start stressing over Riko, or Allison to be sitting popping gum on the couch, or Aaron to groan at Nicky for the latest innuendo. He felt a breath away from the knowledge his clock was ticking down and he was due to die in a few short months. He was a blink from hair dye and clumsy coloured contacts.

Andrew said his name and tethered him back to the present – where they lived together, played on two teams together, owned cats and an apartment together, had cordial dinners with Aaron and Katelyn once a month, let Kevin crash on their couch when he was in town, Skyped with Renee and Allison, smoked out the bedroom window after sex, met up with Dan and Matt at the weekends, cooked meals together, visited Nicky and Erik in Stuttgart over the holidays, held interviews with the press every game, bickered over how best to spend their extra earnings, watched TV on the couch with the cats, attended charity fundraisers, kept each other sane in airports, chatted with Abby and Bee and Wymack every few weeks, woke up together every morning warm and safe and content…

“We’ve come so far,” Neil said thickly in response to Andrew’s questioning look.

Andrew’s reply was a slow, fierce kiss that was as much admission –  _yes, we have –_ as it was a promise. His hands on Neil’s waist, pulling him as close as they could get, their mouths knowing each other so completely after all these years of small meetings and partings, heat in Neil’s stomach and chest and burning him right down to his bones.

“You know,” a dry voice interrupted them, “I thought when you assholes graduated I’d finished walking in on you sucking face in my lounge.”

Neil turned and grinned cheekily at their grizzled bear of a coach. “Just for old time’s sake.”

“Ha,” Wymack snorted, and gave them both a tight smile. “At least you’re both in one piece. Like the lounge?”

“We love it,” Neil sighed. Andrew rolled his eyes but snaked an arm around Neil’s hips.

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Coach,” Andrew said. “I’m sure that’s a symptom of something sinister.”

“So are you, sunshine,” Wymack grinned back, looking at how Andrew held Neil close to his side. “It’s good to see. Will you be keeping me company while the junkies play around?”

“Obviously,” Andrew replied derisively. “Who else would be willing to shit-talk all the latest movies with me?”

“Damn right. Neil, the spare gear for you is in the usual place, and the team’s waiting on the court. Go show them how the Foxes are Olympian material, huh?”

“Yes, Coach,” Neil smiled. He kissed Andrew’s temple, leaned into Wymack’s quick hug as he passed, and made his way back to the beautiful wooden majesty of the Foxhole Court once more.


	31. "My Andrew"

Prompt for Neil calling Andrew "my Andrew", for daf. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/165435240733/so-i-think-i-got-two-prompts-from-wildsfoxes#notes). A little nsfw towards the end :>

* * *

 

Having multiple Andrews on the team was really starting to aggravate Neil. The rest of the team found it hilarious, trying to come up with suitable nicknames to differentiate them. Kevin’s suggestion of ‘goalie Andrew’ and ‘dealer Andrew’ had been immediately vetoed as too boring; and Andrew himself (the  _original_  Andrew, Neil thought sulkily) had shot it down in typical fashion.  _Do not associate me any more with this stupid position_ , he’d said, even as he scooped the ball out of the furthest corner of his goal with barely a flick of his wrist.

New-Andrew seemed a bit uncomfortable with the whole situation. He’d only been on the team a week, it was all a bit much for him to take in, Neil supposed. The Foxes were a wild bunch, especially at the start of the season when they were re-working their hierarchy, and new-Andrew seemed a bit too shy to cope with their games. And he’d been rather intimidated by the twins right off the bat. Not badly enough to need a trip to Columbia, but enough to be keeping his distance.

Neil had been meaning to talk to him about it, as the new Captain (oh  _fuck_ ), but he’d been so busy trying to wrangle the rest of the troublemakers he hadn’t had time. How Dan had managed this for four years, he had no idea.

“Hey Tall Andrew, can you pass me the water bottles?”

“Smiley Andrew, throw the ball this way!”

“Monster Andrew, get back in goal!”

Neil’s head whipped around at that one and glared at Jack until he rolled his eyes and changed it to ‘Maserati Andrew’.

“Does Black Andrew want to get lunch with us?”

“That’s uncalled for, Lexie. Why you gotta make it a racial thing?”

“Andy! Hey, Andy, that was a sweet pass.”

New-Andrew tightened his grip on his racquet. “Don’t call me that,” he finally said. Nicky, who was well aware of Neil’s issues with  _Junior_  and  _Nathaniel,_  simply apologised and used his full name instead.

Neil sighed as he watched the chaos reign despite his best efforts, how new-Andrew was getting tenser and less communicative with each joking nickname. He looked to Wymack for help, who simply raised his eyebrows as if to say  _your problem, kiddo. Get your big-boy pants on._

When they had another break, Neil walked over to new-Andrew and lightly pulled him out of earshot of everyone else.

“Hey man,” he said as casually as he could. “You okay?”

New-Andrew sighed and rubbed at his arms. “It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

New-Andrew chewed his lip a bit. “I don’t like the nickname thing. I know it’s stupid, it’s just a sports thing, but I don’t like it. My name is important to me – I  _chose_  that one. Andrew. Not anything else. Definitely not Andy.”

“Oh,” Neil replied quietly, his mind working fast. He thought back to Andrew’s file, and the anxious conversation he’d had with Wymack, Abby and himself the day he arrived at Fox Tower about slight contradictions in his legal paperwork, and whether Abby should hang onto his testosterone to reduce the chances of the other freshmen finding needles in the bathroom and drawing the wrong conclusions. As it was the Foxes and they were used to Neil, no one had remarked on how new-Andrew always changed out in a stall.

“It’s stupid,” Andrew said again. “I know I should just  _man up_  like it doesn’t bother me, but—”

“No, Andrew,” Neil said firmly. “You have every right to be bothered by it. It’s important to you to be called by your name, and I totally get that. I’m not in your position, but I understand plenty about the power of names.”

Andrew gave him a shaky, grateful smile.

“I’ll get them to knock it off. Is there a name you’d rather – maybe Andrew L?”

“That would be a lot better,” Andrew sighed. “Thanks, Cap.”

“Least I can do,” Neil muttered awkwardly, and went back to the rest of the team with Andrew L following behind.

When they got back to work, Neil rather pointedly praised  _Andrew L_  for the improvement in his passes. The others caught on soon enough after Neil’s sharp frowns when they tried out other nicknames. Andrew L perked up noticeably, and was smiling and playing with much more of a bounce in his step. Neil was feeling rather pleased with himself by the end of practice.

“What’re the plans for this weekend?” Nicky asked in the locker room; Neil was already done and just sorting out his gym bag, while the others were still half-undressed.

“Me and Andrew are going for a drive on Sunday.”

“I didn’t realise you two were so close,” Nicky grinned.

“I meant  _my_ Andrew,” Neil replied, rather louder than he intended in his exasperation. A silly chorus of  _oooooh_ s rose up amid the laughter and Aaron’s pointed silence, and Neil felt his neck flush in embarrassment. He could feel their goalie’s deadly stare on his back and decided to leave before he made things more awkward for himself.

Andrew found him later that night on the roof and sat beside him, a cigarette already lit and nestled between his lips.

“None for me?” Neil asked.

Andrew said nothing and continued staring blankly out at the campus lights.

“Oh come on Andrew, are you really that pissed at me for what I said earlier?” Neil sighed and rubbed through his hair. “It just slipped out. I know you’re not mine and I’m not yours and we don’t own each other… I know, okay? I’m sorry. Can I have a cigarette now?”

Andrew got one out of the carton and rolled it between his fingers, leaking smoke out the corners of his mouth like a vaguely annoyed dragon.

“Don’t call me that in front of the others again,” he said eventually, cold and blank.

“I won’t.”

“Good.” He lit the spare cigarette and held onto them both in one hand before cupping Neil’s chin and planting a harsh, biting kiss on his mouth. Neil couldn’t help but moan and lean into him, giving back as much as he got and stealing the smoke still lingering under Andrew’s tongue.

When Andrew eventually pulled back after one last bite to Neil’s oversensitive lower lip, like he was leaving a full stop on his statement, Neil had to blink himself back into proper thought for a while. He accepted the flickering cigarette in a daze.

“Do you like me calling you that, then?” He asked eventually, confused.

Andrew shot him a glare but didn’t correct him. Neil felt a dopey grin grow on his face and shuffled closer.

“You’re  _my_  Andrew,” he murmured close to his ear, and watched the full-body shiver it prompted. “No one can ever replace you. You’re my Andrew.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew ground out, and yanked Neil in for another desperate, bruising kiss.

“My Andrew,” Neil whispered when they parted for breath, and got himself shoved on his back with Andrew’s hands racing under his shirt for his cheek.


	32. Feline Interrupters

Prompt for the cats interrupting andreil in bed, for daf :> Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/165435240733/so-i-think-i-got-two-prompts-from-wildsfoxes#notes). NSFW, explicit. Post-canon.

* * *

 

“Oh, fuck,” Neil gasped.

Andrew had been blowing him like he wanted to swallow him whole for the past five minutes, and Neil was just about losing his mind. He was spread out on the bed with Andrew knelt down on the floor, hands hot and heavy on Neil’s inner thighs as he went to fucking work.

“Andrew,” he moaned breathlessly and twisted against the bedsheets, clutching them in his fists and squirming away just a bit, almost unable to bear it all.

Andrew pulled off him for a second. “Can’t you keep still?” He panted roughly. “You need to stay still for this.”

“I know,” Neil sighed, shivers rolling over his stomach from Andrew’s breath on hot, wet skin. He shuddered and writhed some more, oversensitive and aching from the weeks they’d been apart.

“Useless, you are,” Andrew muttered, though the flush across his chest deepened and he licked his swollen lips involuntarily.

Neil turned his head into the covers to hide his face a bit, embarrassed by the heat that flared in his gut at the sight and the twitching of his body. “I missed you,” he mumbled.

Andrew released his breath in a harsh gust that blew across Neil’s chest and made him bite his lip. Before Neil knew what was happening, Andrew had moved up to kneel on the bed and had both hands under Neil’s hips and yanked  _hard_ , pulling Neil up his lap with a surprised squeak. He pulled Neil’s legs up against his chest and settled his knees over each shoulder, feet twitching in the air. Neil’s ass and lower back were propped up on Andrew’s thick thighs and Neil swallowed a mouth of saliva at the feeling.

“Yes,” he groaned before Andrew could ask. “Fuck yes.”

“Maybe now you’ll stay still,” Andrew muttered against Neil’s thigh as he began mercilessly sucking a hickey there. Neil moaned and shuddered but couldn’t move anywhere with Andrew’s firm hands holding him in place against his body. When he was satisfied with the blossoming bruise, he pulled Neil up again until he could get his mouth on his cock.

Neil knew he was swearing and moaning and making all sorts of mortifying noises but he didn’t  _care_ , it all just felt too good to handle and he could feel his orgasm rushing up on him, almost there, almost—

An enquiring  _mrrp_  and soft fur against his face startled him into opening his eyes and locking his muscles. King peered at him and nudged at his cheek, looking for pets.

“Hello baby,” Neil whispered in delight, and worked his hand out of the tangle of bedsheets to scratch the top of her head; it had been weeks since he’d seen the cats, too. She purred loudly, but the obscene noise made by Andrew’s mouth leaving his cock again was louder.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he demanded. “You are  _not_  more focussed on the damn cat than me sucking your dick right now.”

“Sorry,” Neil offered sheepishly, knowing his erection had flagged the second King diverted his attention.

Another  _mew_  from the doorway made Andrew swear under his breath. He dropped Neil’s legs abruptly as he got off the bed, grabbed up both cats and locked them out of the bedroom. He scowled at the closed door as the cats started scratching and making pathetic noises, begging to be let in. An enquiring paw swiped under the gap of the door and he glared at it.

Neil laughed breathlessly from where he was spread-eagled on the bed.

“Pests, the lot of you,” Andrew grumbled. “I should leave you to get  _yourself_  off if you’re going to be like this.”

“Come on, Andrew,” Neil grinned. He managed to haul himself somewhat upright, though he didn’t bother moving his legs. “Come back here, I promise I won’t get distracted again.”

Andrew looked like he wanted to stand there and sulk, but something about how Neil looked on their bed must have persuaded him. He sat down by Neil and ran a considering hand up his leg. Neil clambered into his lap and hummed contentedly as Andrew folded his arms around Neil’s hips, holding him close.

Neil combed his hands through Andrew’s hair and mouthed a slow, teasing line of kisses up his neck. “You are the only thing on my mind, I promise,” he murmured against Andrew’s lips and rocked a bit in his lap, gently biting Andrew’s lip as their cocks brushed against each other.

“Convince me,” Andrew muttered as he tightened the circle of his arms.

Neil was more than happy to oblige, and busied himself with grinding their bodies together and coaxing quiet groans from Andrew’s mouth. It all seemed to be going rather spectacularly, from how hard Andrew was gripping at him and panting, when suddenly Andrew froze.

“What is it?” Neil gasped, stopping the heady movement of his hips with a frustrated whine.

“They’re listening to us.”

“The cats?”

“It’s weird.”

“You want to stop?”

“Yes.”

Neil sighed and shuddered; he was trembling right on the edge of coming, a feather-light touch away, and knew Andrew must be the same. With iron control, they unpeeled their sweat-slickened limbs from around each other and lay panting and unsatisfied side by side on the bed, listening to the cats still begging to be let inside.

Neil chewed his lip until the urgent fire in his belly banked down to a sultry, sulky smoulder instead. He was only sporting a semi at this point, but he knew the lightest touch would have him coming.

“Fucking hell,” Andrew muttered with his hands over his face, in much the same condition. “I hate those cats.”

“No you don’t,” Neil smiled, though the sight of him flushed and needy was almost enough to jolt Neil into release. “Do you want the first shower?”

Andrew turned his head, eyes intent. “The shower. They won’t be able to hear us in the shower.”

Neil licked his lips and forced his tone to remain calm, detached. “That. Is an amazing idea.”

They nearly tripped over the cats again in their haste to get to the bathroom, but it was so,  _so_  worth it.


	33. Starting A War

Prompt for Andrew trying to defend his food from the cats :D Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/165438122493/prompt-andrew-trying-to-defend-his-food-from-the#notes). Post-canon domestic.

* * *

Andrew eyed the swishy-tailed little monsters sitting next to him with severe mistrust. They looked so innocent, like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. They blinked back under his scrutiny and made confused _meows_  like they were hurt by his silent accusations.

After a few minutes of this, they curled up like he was boring them and, to all intents and purposes, began napping. Thinking he was safe, Andrew lifted his fingers off his tuna sandwich and attempted to take a bite. No sooner had it touched his lips than he spotted a sneaky little paw swiping at the other half of the sandwich.

He swatted it away and scowled at the perpetrator, who mewled innocently up at him.

“Little fucker,” he muttered.

“That’s no way to talk to your food,” Neil muttered distractedly from his own seat.

“The cats are trying to steal my food again.”

Neil laughed at him. He hated this. How had they got here, with two pests in their home and himself on the verge of a battle of wills with a pair of fucking  _cats_.

“You’d think the parasites never got fed.”

“I think they’re just fond of you,” Neil smiled, watching them. “And I think they’re enjoying the game.”

Andrew felt his mouth turn down. Not only were the fluffballs trying to steal his food, they were enjoying it. Unbelievable.

He tried once more and nearly lost the other half completely to a greedy little mouth with sharp teeth.

With as much dignity as he could muster, Andrew stood and took his plate to the breakfast bar and hoisted himself up onto a tall stool. He finished his sandwich, ignoring Neil’s snickers and the patting of little paws at his ankles as they tried to climb his sweatpants.

He’d won the battle, but the war was just beginning.


	34. A Pinch Of Fairy Dust

Prompt for Andrew as a changeling child and Neil as the fairy who mistakenly left him without exchanging Aaron in his place, for leahlisabeth. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/165441341843/how-about-andrew-is-a-changeling-but-the-fairy-who#notes). Vague warnings for child neglect and the twinyards' shitty childhood.

* * *

 

It was not Neil’s day at all.

He’d messed up his very first simple exchange on his very first day because  _of course_  he had, and had only realised once he’d slipped back to the fey realm and reported, all proud, to his supervisor. Who had looked at his empty hands and sent him tumbling in a gust of wind, autumn leaves spinning around him until he was back in the human realm with the orders to  _finish the job, idiot!_  ringing in his ears.

But, naturally, time moved differently in the fey realm. The ten minutes he’d spent away from the human world had passed as five years instead.

Hexes and poxes.

And when he got to the house he’d left the changeling child, the humans he was looking for had gone. New ones were there, ones with cats that spotted him perching on the windowsill and started batting at the glass, trying to catch him while their humans laughed at their silly antics.

Hexes and poxes and  _curses_ , where had they gone?

When he finally located them, hundreds of miles away, more years had passed. His wings ached from flying through the years, zipping in and out of the fey realm to jump hundreds of miles at a time. He settled down on a tree branch with an exhausted sigh and stretched out his gossamer wings. He had them now – two identical small, elfin-looking blonde boys sitting under the tree, heads bent over a book.

But they were far too old for him to swap now, Neil realised with a sinking heart. They were on the very edge of childhood, heading inexorably into human pubescence. He could feel the delicate magic skeins weaving themselves around the boys, getting ready to change their bodies and minds and close them off from fey possibilities forever. He wasn’t even sure if the changeling boy would be able to see him anymore, or if his years living as a human had dulled his instincts and clouded his eyes with human assumptions working their own kind of magic.

Hexes, poxes, curses and blistering boils. He’d really cocked this one up. But what was he supposed to do? Maybe he should just take the changeling back home to the fey realm, he would never be truly happy living as a human.

He flitted down from the tree to watch them more closely, and for a second thought the boy on the left glanced up at him. But when Neil looked closer, they just kept on reading.

“Hello?” He said tentatively. Nothing. He dug some sweetmeats out of a pouch on his belt, handmade by the Summer Queen. His own mouth began to water at the seductive scent of them, and he didn’t even like sweet things. “Would you like a sweet?”

The one on the left looked up at him immediately, eyes wide. His eyes focussed intently on the marzipan candies in Neil’s hand.

“Andrew?” The human boy asked in confusion. “Are you seeing things again?”

“There’s – there’s a boy our age,” the changeling told his copy hesitantly. “He has sweets. And wings.”

Neil smiled shyly at him. “Would you like one?”

“What boy?” The human said, frowning. His eyes slid right past Neil, and he couldn’t seem to smell the treats at all.

The changeling – Andrew – frowned at Neil. “What happens if I take one?”

Ahh, a clever one.

Caught by a direct question, Neil could not lie. “If you take it, you’ll be able to come home with me and leave this place. Your human glamour will melt away and you can be your true self. You’ll forget this place.”

“My glamour?” The boy repeated, eyes widening now with fear. He patted at his face as if afraid a mask would fall off. “What do you mean?”

“You aren’t human, Andrew,” Neil said as gently as he could. This was not supposed to be up to him – he was just a newbie switcher, he wasn’t supposed to deal with this. But his rookie mistake had caused this, he owed this creature an explanation. “You’re a faerie, like me. You aren’t supposed to live here.”

“You’re lying,” Andrew accused, huddling back against his copy.

Neil crouched down in front of them. “I can’t lie. You’ve felt different all your life, haven’t you? You see things others can’t, feel things they don’t understand. You long for flight like the birds all around you. If you try and lie, your tongue begins to burn in your mouth. Salt stings you. Iron-based metals burn and give you rashes. You can’t break promises, even if the consequences hurt you – you  _have_  to see them through. You love sweet foods, but they never satisfy. When you catch your reflection out of the corner of your eye, you don’t recognise yourself. Your shoulders ache sometimes, and when you’re almost awake you feel your wings against your back. Human children avoid you, their parents mistrust you, and you don’t know why. Take a sweet, Andrew. You don’t belong here.”

He watched as tears welled up in the changeling’s eyes. “You’re lying,” he said again in a wobbly voice.

“I’m not. I’m sorry.”

“Andrew?” The human copy asked, tugging on the changeling’s arm. “What’s going on?”

“He – he says I’m a faerie,” Andrew mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “He says if I take a sweet I’ll change.”

“Am I one too?”

Andrew looked at Neil, who shook his head sadly. From the way Andrew’s face crumpled, and how the human clung tighter to his arm, he supposed the message was clear.

“Don’t you want to come home?” Neil asked softly, holding out the sweets. “It’s beautiful there. You’ll never be hurt or cold again. You can join us in the revels, make magic and fly beneath evergreen trees. You’ll be one of us, never outcast or unwanted.”

For a moment, Andrew leaned forward, desperation in his eyes and temptation in his shaking fingers. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets, though his eyes lingered on the sweets. “I won’t leave my brother Aaron.”

Neil frowned, confused. “He isn’t your brother. He’s your copy. You were meant to be switched as babies but – I made a mistake,” he admitted, ashamed. “You were never supposed to know each other. If you don’t come home soon, the way will be closed to you forever. Would you really stay here, knowing who you are, for him? Is he worth it?”

Andrew grabbed the human’s arm tightly in his small fists. Tears began to spill, but his voice was hard with certainty. “He’s my brother. I’m not leaving him.”

“You’ll regret that choice,” Neil told him sadly. “In a few years’ time, when you’re grown and too old to take it back, when you’re alone and pushed away by the humans who know there’s something inhuman about you. You’ll be treated like a monster. You’ll be desperately unhappy. Take the sweet, Andrew. Please.”

“I won’t leave him!” Andrew yelled, while his ‘brother’ watched with a pale expression. “I don’t care about any of that, he’s my brother and I won’t leave him alone. I promised him.”

Neil’s heart ached. A faerie’s promise could never be broken off. Andrew had exiled himself, all unknowing, to the human world forever. He felt his wings fluttering anxiously, and saw how longingly Andrew watched them.

“This is my fault,” Neil said bitterly. “I’m so sorry.”

“What if Aaron took a sweet too?” Andrew asked, clinging on fast. “Could he come too?”

Neil frowned down at the sweetmeats, thinking furiously. “They might turn him fey too,” he replied slowly. “He was made in our lands; tasting our foods might help him cross the border again. But he wouldn’t be able to leave. You’d both have to live in the fey world, forever. No visits back here.”

“Things suck here anyway,” Andrew replied. “Our mother hates us. She hits us.”

Furious, Neil’s magic escaped his control and the leaves and grasses around them whipped up in the sudden wind; it caught his wings and pulled him into the air for a moment before he mastered himself. He held out the sweets.

“Aaron,” the changeling said to his twin. “Do you want to live in the faerie world?”

Aaron looked shocked and gaped at his brother. “What do you mean?”

“If you eat one too, you’ll become a faerie. But you’ll never be able to come back.”

Aaron’s lower lip trembled for a minute. But he firmed his grip on his brother. “So let’s leave this place.”

Andrew grinned in a flash, joy and mischief and magic all combined in a breathless wonder of an expression. Neil smiled to see the fey in him starting to come free under the temptation of the sweetmeats. Andrew reached forward and delicately took two candies from Neil’s palm. He held one to his brother, who must have thought he was holding empty air and accepted it dubiously. They locked eyes, and bit into the sweets in unison.

The sunlight seemed to crystallise on them and magic roared to life all around. Neil watched joyfully as their skin started changing first, growing mottled green and faintly glowing like his own, like dappled leaves. Their ears lengthened into pointed tips, and their facial structure sharpened, cheekbones rising and eyes growing. Their human clothes melted away to become garments of spidersilk and flower petals. And, most glorious of all, delicate dragonfly wings unfurled from their backs and stretched out for the first time, shimmery and wet as if fresh from a chrysalis. Rainbows danced on the ground under them, sunlight splitting merrily through the translucent wing membranes. Aaron saw Neil for the first time, then looked to his brother in astonishment who was staring at his black, sharp nails and green hands.

“Let me take you both home,” Neil smiled, his heart beating hard in his chest with elation. “Let’s fly.” He held out his hands, and the twins each took one with a happy grin. In seconds they were gone, slipped sideways into the bountiful, fantastical realm of the fey.


	35. Not My Type, Thanks

Prompt for Neil getting hit on at Eden's. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/165444630963/prompt-neil-getting-hit-on-but-being-oblivious#notes). Mild nsfw thoughts and flirting. No jealousy.

* * *

 

Neil sat stirring his lime and soda with a mini umbrella, looking bored and sulky next to Andrew as they waited for the rest to finish dancing themselves brainless. Andrew knew he wasn’t actually upset – he was obsessing over the lineup for next week’s game. He tended to pout when he was thinking when tired. Not that he ever noticed. Not that  _Andrew_  ever noticed. Definitely not.

Andrew took a long swallow of his whiskey and contemplated whether it was a blowjob or handjob kind of night. With the shape Neil’s mouth was making in the rainbow strobe lighting, it might just be a ‘kiss him dizzy’ kind of night and make it up from there.

Andrew was about to tap his wrist and suggest they find an empty storeroom for ten minutes when a stranger strolled up to their table and helped himself to the seat next to Neil.

“Hey baby,” the man crooned with a cocksure grin, resting an arm on the back of Neil’s chair. “Having a good night?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Neil replied blandly, still stirring his drink rather than drinking it. He gave the man a once-over that was much more about assessing a potential threat than the flirtation the man took it as.

“You sure? You don’t look too happy in this corner. You wanna dance?”

“I’m fine here. I don’t like crowds much.”

The man leaned closer, sensing an opportunity. He didn’t seem to see Andrew at all – his focus was all on Neil and his pretty mouth, and Andrew  _was_  wearing all black. He supposed he blended into the dark corner pretty well. “You wanna go somewhere a bit quieter then, sugar? Somewhere more private? Have some fun?”

Andrew felt his eye twitch at the echo of his own sentiments.

Neil gave him a bored look from the corner of his eye, and tilted his cheek to show his gruesome scarring more clearly. “I’m not your type.”

The man looked taken aback for a second, then looked again at Neil’s fluffy hair, icy eyes and plump mouth. “You’re a pretty boy with hard edges who likes playing hard to get, what’s not to like?” He grinned again and tossed his dark hair back over his shoulder and leaned forward to rest a large hand on Neil’s thigh. He squeezed and kneaded like a cat, and Neil didn’t so much as blink. “I bet I could get that bored look off your face, sugar.”

“Nah.”

“Sounds like a challenge to me,” the man smiled, easing closer. His hand slid higher and curved down, fingers skating by his groin. He lifted his other hand to delicately trace a curl hanging by Neil’s ear and murmured in his ear. Andrew kept sipping, wondering why Neil hadn’t punched the guy already. He would do it himself, but they’d had words before about Neil fighting his own battles unless he asked for help. “You look like a boy who doesn’t like to think he needs looking after. I bet you think you’re so cold and dangerous. I bet you need someone to shock you, thrill you, show you the night of your life just to shake up the tedium. What do you say, baby?”

Neil looked him over as if considering it, then gave him a chilly smile. “No thanks. Not in the mood.”

The guy frowned for a second, then fixed a wider smile on his lips. “Ooh, baby, that almost convinced me. You’re a real ice queen. You wanna try that again without eyefucking me?”

Neil sighed, picked up his glass and calmly upended it over the guy’s crotch. “No thanks.”

The guy shot up out of his seat, shocked and annoyed as he patted at the sticky drink soaking into him, like he’d wet himself. “Hey! No need to get like that! I was just being nice. Not like anyone else here is gonna go for someone with a fucked up face like that. Fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, whatever. Bye.” Neil waved him off, then turned to Andrew. “I fixed the lineup. If Marlene subs for Jack, we should have enough fresh players in rotation we won’t feel those double red cards from last night.”

“How nice.” Andrew finished his glass. “You let him get awfully handsy with you.”

Neil shrugged it off as inconsequential. “I would’ve broken his wrist if he went much further. I didn’t expect him to be that persistent.”

Andrew just looked at him.

“I might go for a shower. You want to come with? The others will be hours yet.”

“Why?” Andrew raised an eyebrow coolly. “Want me to shock you, thrill you, show you the night of your life, et cetera? I’m not blowing you in the shower after that little display.”

“I don’t want you to,” Neil said, and his detached expression melted into something soft and warm. “I want you to take me home and maybe kiss me before we go to bed. I said I wasn’t in the mood and I meant it. And there’s no reason for you to be jealous of that douche.”

“I am not jealous.”

“What are you then?”

Andrew tapped his fingers on the rim of his glass. “On alert.”

“Why?”

“I trust you,” Andrew said quietly, an admission years in the making. “I trust you to handle yourself and to be honest with me if you want more than I can give you. I do  _not_  trust other people’s intentions.”

Neil smiled and reached over, palm upturned. “I understand. Do you want to come home with me?”

“No, I’ll wait for the others,” Andrew replied, and tugged on Neil’s fingers until he leaned in close enough to share a slow, sweet kiss full of trust and promises. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” Neil smiled, gave him one more quick kiss, then weaved his way out of the club, calm and confident as ever. Andrew watched him go, wondering if Neil would ever stop surprising him.


	36. Tragic

Prompt for Andrew looking after Neil while on pain medication. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/165448285253/a-prompt-for-you-neil-somehow-gets-in-heavy-pain#notes). 

* * *

 

Andrew carefully lowered Neil to lie down on the couch, putting a pillow behind his head as an afterthought.

Neil blinked up at him, eyes wide. “Andrew,” he breathed, “You’re so strong. Thank you.”

Andrew sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. This was going to be a long night. “Do you want any water.”

“Yes, thank you. My throat hurts.”

Andrew got him a glass and poked a straw into the water. He sat down on the floor by the head of the couch and offered it up. Neil turned his head with difficulty, poked himself in the cheek with the straw, and eventually managed to sip some water.

“Thanks,” he mumbled around it, not quite able to get it out of his mouth. “You’re very kind.”

Andrew knew there was no point telling him to shut up – he was doped to the gills to cope with cracked ribs and had no control over himself. He put the glass down on the floor and flicked open his phone. He concentrated on Snake II so he wouldn’t be too conscious of the way Neil was staring at him.

“Andrew,” Neil said in a tone of wonder a while later. “Andrew, you’re beautiful. Have I told you that? Your hair and your face and your hands and how you smoke.”

“Uh huh.”

Then, “I have a secret.”

“Shocking.”

“Sometimes I watch you doing weights at the gym. I’m sorry. But I like how you look. It makes me happy.”

“Right.”

“You’ve saved my life like… twice? Maybe more than that.”

“I know.”

“I think you’re amazing how much you love your family even if they don’t appreciate you.”

“Right.”

“You’re the best goalkeeper ever.  _Ever_. Dermott’s good, but she loses focus sometimes. You’re great. You’re all… laser-y.”

“Okay.”

“I stole Kevin’s nutrition bars and hid them in one of your empty ice cream thingies, and put it back in the freezer. They just taste so bad, Andrew. So bad.”

“Nice.”

“I think I want to grow old with you.”

Andrew’s head snapped up at that one. On the screen, his snake ate its own tail and slithered into the  _game over_  screen. “You what?”

Neil blinked fuzzily at him. “What did I say?”

“Nothing. Maybe you should sleep, Neil. Talking so much won’t be good for your ribs.”

“Oh, okay. If you think that’s best. I don’t feel very sleepy, though.”

“Close your eyes. The painkillers should count the sheep for you.”

“Clever of them,” Neil yawned.

Blessed silence for all of two minutes.

Then, “Andrew?”

Andrew sighed. “What is it.”

“My hair is tickling my face.”

“Tragic.”

Neil made a discontented sound and tried lifting his clumsy arms to sort himself out, but hissed and froze when it pulled on his ribs.

“Stop, stop,” Andrew muttered. “You baby. Stay still.”

He stood up and perched on the armrest by Neil’s head. Slowly, gently, he tucked Neil’s wayward bangs out of his face and behind his ears.

“Oh,” Neil sighed, dazed eyes closing. “That’s really nice.”

Andrew watched his face smooth out as he drifted slowly into sleep. Andrew kept stroking his hair, trying not to think about the terrifying idea of decades and decades of this ahead of them. Trying not to think of how it put an ache in his chest.

“Pipedream,” he whispered, and curled Neil’s hair between his fingers.


	37. Do You Want To Talk About It?

Prompt for Bee finding out about Proust. Original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/165551923233/could-you-write-the-foxes-or-maybe-bee-finding-out#notes). Super angst. Warnings for mentions of rape, drugging, Andrew’s unhealthy way of coping with trauma, everything non-con and everything related to Proust and Riko, details taken mostly from this rather nasty bit of the extra content ([x](http://korakos.tumblr.com/post/133106154242/im-so-going-to-regret-this-proust-did-he-what)).

* * *

 

Andrew tried not to yawn as he listened to Aaron clumsily pick his words to explain to Bee why Katelyn was important to him. He watched the clock and counted the ticks until he could leave.

So when his phone vibrated silently in his pocket, he had no problems pulling it out and reading the text. He wasn’t missing anything important.

It was Neil.  _Stuart just called. Proust is dead. News will hit local papers this evening._

“Andrew,” Bee frowned, “I’d thank you to have the courtesy of listening.”

“Proust is dead,” he replied blankly, mind still whirring with the implications.

“Who?” Aaron asked at the same time as Bee said “My goodness.”

Andrew slowly closed his phone and tapped it against his thigh. He’d very much wanted the satisfaction of killing the sick fuck himself, but maybe it was cleaner this way. He was completely unconnected to the death.

“Proust was one of my doctors at Easthaven,” he told Aaron.

Bee recovered her composure quickly. “And how does his death make you feel now, Andrew? Were you attached to him?”

“He was attached to me,” he corrected her blandly. “And I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Why is that?” she frowned, quickly taking some notes. “I understand you didn’t enjoy Easthaven, but the man was surely only doing his job.”

Andrew weighed his words before replying. They were in a therapy session, after all, why the fuck not. It wasn’t like Riko could take revenge for him spilling secrets with his brains blasted out of his skull.

“He was unpleasant,” he said finally. “And he was being paid by Riko.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Aaron asked.

“You’re aware that Riko paid Drake to go to Columbia, right?” Andrew said coldly. As ever, mentioning Drake made Aaron flinch. “That if Drake hadn’t died, Riko had already paid off the police to let him walk. He also paid my sobriety counsellor to mess with me once I got to Easthaven. It was all set up way before we got there.”

“What did Proust do, exactly?” Bee asked, started to look concerned under her professional mask. She knew his evasions better than Aaron.

Andrew shrugged and folded his arms. “He called it ‘therapeutic roleplaying’.”

“Did he force you to relive your assault?” Bee asked sharply. “Without your consent?”

He looked at her and considered telling her the whole truth for once. He’d dodged around her questions about Easthaven after his return and she’d learned to drop the subject, probably assuming he didn’t want to talk about the withdrawal process anymore.

“He justified restraining me with the violence in my file. He had unquestioned access to my room to ‘check’ on me. And threats and yelling weren’t exactly uncommon in the withdrawal wing.”

Bee dropped her pen.

Aaron gaped, trying to keep up. “What – did he – Andrew, what…”

“Did you say this to the other counsellors there?” Bee asked as she bent to pick up her pen and began making furious notes.

Andrew scoffed quietly. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I knew they wouldn’t believe me, and it wouldn’t change anything if they did.”

Bee gave him a very sad look. “We’ll discuss that belief another time. I’d like you to be very honest with me now, Andrew. What did he do to you?”

“I’m always honest,” Andrew half-lied. He dodged and lied by omission almost as much as Neil. He let his eyes drift up to the glass animals to tether him and made sure his voice was as blank as possible. “He had me restrained. He recited things from my childhood that the others had said to me – things he should not have known. He re-enacted those things, using his fingers. He re-created Drake’s rape. He pushed me into flashbacks and panic attacks and put hands on me. He gave me paralytics and hallucinogens to make things… blur, and so none of this will hold up in court.”

Bee looked distraught and furious as she took down his words regardless. Aaron was silent ghost. “Andrew, I…” she wiped her eyes with trembling fingers. “I’m so sorry. I never imagined Easthaven would be unsafe. I failed my duty of care to you.”

Andrew just shrugged. He didn’t hold it against her; he’d long accepted it was just the way things were. People like him fell through the cracks time and time again, no matter the intentions of others.

She cleared her throat. “Would you like to make a formal complaint to Easthaven and open up a legal enquiry?”

“What for? Proust is, happily, dead.”

“For medical negligence and abuse,” she replied firmly. “To stop that happening to any other patient at that facility. Your rights were violated and you were abused, Andrew. You were further abused at a facility that was supposed to help you recover from being raped.”

He blinked slowly at her. He knew he should feel something about it, and when he’d been in the grip of Proust’s fuckery he’d been swinging nightmarishly between all sorts of traumas, but once he was out his apathy had taken over. He’d planned to carry out his promise of killing Proust, and that had felt… good… but otherwise he hadn’t cared. That shit had been happening to him all his life, it was nothing new. No point getting mad over an increasing puddle of spilt milk – especially when no one else cared about the milk in the first place.

“Proust is dead,” he said. “I’m satisfied.”

Bee took a deep breath to collect herself. “We’ll talk about this another time. For now, would you consent to me using your anonymised account to pursue my own enquiry?”

“Do what you like. What, Aaron?” He frowned, because Aaron had been staring at him and making a fish-face, opening his mouth and closing it over and over.

“Neil,” Aaron said slowly. Andrew narrowed his eyes – if Aaron was going to use this as another excuse to badger him on why he let Neil touch him… “Neil knew, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Is that – is that really why he went to Evermore?” Aaron looked positively sick. “At the winter banquet, when Neil punched Riko, he said it was because Riko admitted he’d paid Drake. But he was yelling about something else, saying that if Riko touched somebody…”

Andrew lifted his shoulder vaguely. “Neil told me Riko manipulated him into going to Evermore. He hinted that if Neil went, Proust would not touch me. Neil shouldn’t have gone anyway – I’d been at Easthaven for weeks at that point. He’d already got to work on me. But Neil can be kind of stupid when he’s angry.”

Aaron had no reply other than to look shocked.

“Are we done?” Andrew asked Bee. “I want a drink.”

“You shouldn’t use alcohol as a coping mechanism,” she reminded him dutifully.

“It’s a celebration,” he corrected her, and stood up. “See you next week.”

He left them sitting shocked and wounded in his wake, and went to get his hands on the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue sitting in the kitchen cabinet. Time to get drunk and force himself not to remember Easthaven too clearly. 


	38. Fuzzy Feelings

Prompt for some andreil pda in front of the foxes, original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/170467561803/ooh-i-love-your-writing-and-if-youre-looking#notes). Fluffy and soft for your soul ^u^ ALSO check out this amazing piece of art by the lovely efternavngoesexy here [(x)](https://efternavngoesexy.tumblr.com/post/172302064598/someone-reblog-spanglebangles-little-prompt-about) !!

* * *

 

Andrew let his gaze wander around the room idly, unenthused by the topic under discussion – the girls and Nicky and Matt were busy gossiping and betting on the idiot freshmen, while Kevin and Aaron squabbled out of boredom. They seemed to be vaguely fighting about whether My Chemical Romance counted as punk or emo, though neither of them really had their hearts in the discussion; they’d be screaming, if they did. It seemed more to be bickering for the sake of filling time. Andrew closed his ears to them as well.

He’d been roped into increasingly more Fox-nights like this over the course of the year. And the cause of that was sitting beside him on the couch, eyes alight with quiet joy as he basked in his family’s presence. Neil was in his sleepwear, as were most of the others, and he looked stupidly soft-edged and content in the fuzzy onesie Matt had bought him for his birthday last week. He had the hood up, and the fluffy fox-ears on top were flopped at strange angles from the way he kept turning his head like a tennis referee, listening to Dan and Allison debate whether any of the freshmen were boning (they were all wrong – Robin had informed him of all the messy details, and he was waiting to collect his winnings). Neil’s legs were crossed under him on the couch, and his hands rested loose and relaxed in his lap.

Andrew quite wanted to hold him.

It was a nice thought. He’d been mulling it over for about ten minutes now, considering it, imagining and planning. He hadn’t quite reached the execution part of it yet, was still busy weighing up the pros and cons.

Neil turned to look at him during this contemplation, and grinned suddenly. “Staring,” he murmured half-mockingly, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he tried to hold back snickers.

Andrew’s lungs went all sideways at the sight.

He leaned back against the arm of the couch and lazily propped a leg on the couch between them. He made a vague beckoning gesture with one hand and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Neil’s eyes went wide for a second, then he dropped his gaze almost shyly as his smile started to overtake his face. He turned his back to Andrew and scooted cautiously backwards, until Andrew simply wrapped an arm around his waist and scooped him up close, leaned back into Andrew’s chest and laying between his legs. Neil rested his head back on Andrew’s shoulder and sighed shakily; he tucked his legs up to the side and settled.

There, Andrew thought as he looped both arms around Neil’s waist and cradled him close. It put his lungs back the right way up, to have Neil nestled in close to him like this, warm and soft and happy. Absently he nudged one of the fox-ears out of his face with his nose, making Neil laugh quietly. Andrew looked down and found himself on the end of another one of Neil’s sappy stares, just a bare inch or two from his face. It was even worse up close.

“Any particular reason?” Neil murmured playfully, smiling up at him like there were stars in Andrew’s hair.

Andrew snorted quietly, trying to tug his gaze away, too. “My hands were cold,” he said and spread his fingers over Neil’s stomach, and the comforting fluff of his onesie. Too late, he realised that was even soppier than he had intended, and tried not to tense up.

Neil’s gaze melted into something buttery-rich and affectionate. He tucked his hand under one of Andrew’s to interweave their fingers, and leaned up a bit to place kisses on Andrew’s jaw, one, two, three. Andrew would never admit how his heart seemed to stutter in his chest.

“Pest,” he mumbled after a too-long pause.

“You’re the one who wanted to cuddle,” Neil whispered gleefully into his neck, before dropping a kiss on a fading hickey there. Andrew shivered despite himself and pinched Neil’s wrist lightly. “I like this,” Neil continued quietly, curling contentedly into Andrew’s chest. “I like it a lot.”

Andrew swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and tightened his hold just a little, earning a quiet sigh.

“This is the cutest shit I have ever seen,” Matt suddenly declared, and Andrew tore his gaze away from Neil to see the others watching them with astonished looks. Renee smiled gently at him, while Matt and seemed close to tears.

“It’s okay, babe,” Dan told him affectionately and squeezed his hand. “I’ll spoon you later, too.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

In Andrew’s arms, Neil chuckled quietly and pressed another kiss to his neck. Andrew couldn’t even care they were still being covertly watched; Neil was too soft, too happy, for him to really care.


	39. Double-Down On The Fun

Prompt for andreil being dragged on an unlikely-seeming double date and ending up having a great time, original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/170469880873/need-a-prompt-andreil-dragged-on-a-double-date#notes). Soft older andreil, professional dorks in love.

* * *

 

“I’d like you to inform you of my opinion that this is garbage,” Andrew said tonelessly as he looked between paint options for his plain, unadorned ceramic elephant mould.

Neil rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad,” he disagreed, and picked out some paints for his tiger. “And it’s making Nicky so happy, look.”

Andrew didn’t bother; he knew Nicky and Erik were giggling back at the table, concentrating more on flirting with each other than painting their plain mugs and pennysafes – despite the fact  _Nicky_  had insisted on this travesty of a double-date. The whole situation was completely unfair.

“We are four grown, adult men in a teashop surrounded by bratty kids and harassed moms,” Andrew said. “We’re more than a little out of place.”

Neil just grinned. “That’s what makes it fun. And you’d better not be painting your poor elephant black.”

“Watch me.”

“Don’t throw a tantrum, or you won’t get any cake after,” Neil teased him in perfect imitation of one of the moms sitting near their table. Andrew’s glare was rather more impressive than the daughter’s had been – but then, Andrew didn’t have glitter in his pigtails to undercut the look.

“Are you making your tiger pink?”

“Yes, I think I am,” Neil smiled, and headed back to Nicky and Erik, paint bottles in hand. Andrew sighed, grabbed some acid-green paint for himself, and joined them. Better to get this over with sooner, and leave. And disown his cousin for this embarrassment. And divorce his husband for wheedling him into the whole thing.

Andrew was midway through the process of coating his elephant in a smooth coat of green paint, when he noticed a pink splodge right on the trunk. He squinted suspiciously at Neil, who was concentrating on giving his tiger blue stripes against pink fur. Neil seemed too focussed to be the culprit, but Nicky and Erik had pretty much abandoned their ceramics in favour of holding hands and giggling like boys twenty years younger. Part of him was glad his cousin had found – and continued to find – so much love and joy in his life. A larger part of him was extremely annoyed he had been dragged here only for Nicky to abandon the activity – and his other companions – ten minutes in.

When he looked back to his elephant, another pink splodge had appeared on the side. He looked to Neil again, but he had his tongue between his teeth as he carefully outlined whiskers on the tiger’s face in white paint.

Andrew narrowed his eyes, nudged his glasses higher with his knuckle, and pulled his palette dish closer to himself, where sneaky paintbrushes would be less likely to ‘accidentally’ dip into his selection. Neil didn’t react, apparently wholly absorbed in painting his weird tiger.

Twenty minutes later, and Andrew was reluctantly impressed by the level of sneaky fuckery going on, and by how much he had grown to trust Neil over the years. He never caught a glimpse of him moving, never had the alarming sensation someone was moving out of his sight, but somehow whenever he turned towards the constantly opening-and-closing door on old reflex to check his surrounds, his elephant had gained more paint splotches. Some were pink, others were orange. He had clearly gotten too used to Neil always being near him to notice the subtle sabotage.

Neil smiled innocently at him over the rim of his coffee when Andrew scowled. “Yes, dear?”

“Don’t you ‘yes, dear?’ me,” Andrew grumbled, the back of his neck feeling warm, as it always did when Neil played that particular card. “Get your filthy hands off my elephant.”

“I don’t have a clue what you mean,” Neil replied, his smile growing impish at the corners. “I like what you’ve done with him, though. He looks like the ones from Dumbo now.”

Andrew held his stare, then very slowly and deliberately reached out and made a splodge of green, right on the tiger’s paw. Neil gasped dramatically.

“Andrew, how could you?”

Andrew waved his paintbrush threateningly in Neil’s direction. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Dropping all pretense, Neil picked up a brush and waggled it towards the elephant. “Think you can stop me?”

“I’m an Olympic goalkeeper, of course I can.”

“Oh no, I’m so scared.”

Andrew tucked a smile into the corner of his mouth and poured out some more paint, ready to do battle.

When he delivered the elephant up to the waitress half an hour later to be fired in the shop’s basement kiln, it was a hot garbagey mess of paint streaks and weird patches in all different colours. It was the most stupid elephant he had ever seen, but Neil’s lurid tiger seemed to match it, somehow. The waitress awkwardly complemented them on the ‘creativity’, and quickly whisked the ceramics away where other patrons wouldn’t have to see.

“I want that cake now,” Andrew said.

Neil laughed and held his paint-smeared fingers under the table. “Fine, have all the cake you want,” he smiled. “I won’t tell our nutritionist, seeing as you made such a lovely elephant. I might tell our coach about your shocking reflexes, though.”

“Shut your face. I felt bad for you trying so hard and failing.”

“Of course,” Neil agreed genially, and planted a quick kiss on Andrew’s cheek.

After much cake and coffee while they waited for their monstrous creations to bake, the four of them left the shop with bags in hand.

“Did you two have a nice time?” Nicky asked, coming out of the Erik-bubble for the first time in hours.

“We did,” Neil replied for them both, and squeezed Andrew’s hand with a fond smile. Andrew was just trying to imagine where they were going to put the eyesores in their flat. If Neil insisted on putting them in the bedroom, Andrew might just throw that tantrum after all.


	40. Sweet

Prompt for andreil foodplay, original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/170477336933/andreil-foodplay-i-mean-andrews-favourite#notes). NSFW smut with some bonus hand kink and messy kink discovery. 

* * *

 

Andrew had come to enjoy his summers, these days. No Exy, no classes, no gym. Everyone away on holiday. Long, lazy days filled with drives in the car or binge-watching TV. And, for the past few weeks, it had just been himself and Neil in the Columbia house. Nicky was off in Stuttgart ‘being gloriously ravaged by Erik’, his words, gross. Aaron was with the cheerleader. Kevin was taking a vacation with his father for some father-son time apparently. The others had all scattered back home. He’d asked Neil if he wanted to go anywhere or do anything, but Neil had just smiled and said no. This was going to be Andrew’s last year at PSU, and Neil was already getting clingy.

Well. Andrew was too, if he was being honest. He’d been relishing the quiet alone time just as much, storing it up and memorising it all. They’d spent most of their time in close contact, rarely doing anything without holding hands, or touching each other somehow. Brushes against hips, tugs on sleeves, hands in back-pockets. It hadn’t quite reached levels of desperate yet – Andrew suspected that would come once the last semester started. But it was good. It was relaxed, comfortable. Somewhere along the line, they had gotten greedy for touch from just each other, learning to depend and crave it from their safe person and home. There were still bad days, of course, but those were getting few and far between. And, sometimes, touch could actually help, now, instead of hurting. They knew each other’s hands so well, they were grounding and soothing rather than startling.

The domesticity was all very nice, Andrew supposed, but he wasn’t enjoying the mess Neil had started leaving around the house. If they were to live together sometime in the future, as they’d been discussing recently, they would need to have  _words_  about this.

“Dammit,” Andrew muttered as he picked up a jar of honey overturned by the porridge supplies and promptly got it all over his hand. “ _Neil._ ”

“Hm?” Came the vague reply from the front room.

“You left the honey open,” Andrew said flatly. “The jar tipped over from the weight of the spoon and now there’s honey all over the counter.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Neil called, sounding genuinely guilty. “Leave it, I’ll clean it up later.”

“I don’t want ants in the kitchen.”

Andrew heard a rustling that seemed to indicate Neil had abandoned his pillow fort in the front room, and a moment later Neil came into the kitchen with a concerned look on his face.

“Oh, shit,” he said as he surveyed the mess, and bit his lip. “Sorry, Andrew.”

Andrew just scowled as Neil hurriedly got a damp washcloth and wiped up the spill on the counter. There was still some left in the jar, but the majority of it was past saving.

“That was a new jar as well,” Neil muttered to himself as he wrung out the washcloth.

“Your fault.”

“I know.”

Andrew curled his lip as he looked at his honey-covered hand, and how his fingers were starting to get glued together from the viscous mess. “Look at this shit,” he said in disgust, vaguely waving his hand in Neil’s direction.

Neil turned around from the sink and his mouth formed a soft  _o_  of surprise. He made to grab the washcloth again, but halted with a peculiar look on his face. Andrew didn’t quite understand his expression, but something about the way Neil had gone completely still to stare at his hand put a lick of heat in his belly.

“What?”

Neil opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for words, before quickly rubbing over his face, looking embarrassed.

“ _What_ , Neil?”

Neil bit down hard on his lower lip, making it flush under his teeth. Andrew blinked a few times.

“Can I kiss your hand?”

Andrew stared at him for a moment, then felt his pulse kick into a higher gear. He nodded silently, and watched as Neil approached almost hesitantly. Andrew held his hand out, noting that the honey was starting to slowly drip down his wrist. Neil seemed to have noticed too, and ducked his head to capture the drop on his tongue. He pressed a slow, sucking kiss over the skin and Andrew felt his tongue swirl gently, cleaning up the smear. He swallowed hard, eyes transfixed on the attentive, serious expression on Neil’s face.

They’d discovered a while back that Neil could have something of an oral fixation when the mood struck, and they both knew he had a thing for Andrew’s hands. Combined, that had led to some… interesting developments. But Andrew hadn’t honestly thought of  _this_  as a concept until right that moment.

Neil gently steadied Andrew’s arm and started pressing careful, wet kisses up Andrew’s wrist towards his hand. He was studious, almost, a small frown pinching his brows down, as he worked his way up with soft lips and a warm tongue. Andrew felt almost mesmerised as he watched Neil’s mouth pressing and relaxing, sucking and licking, kissing all over. He’d always enjoyed Neil’s mouth, but there was something almost slightly obscene in watching him suck honey off Andrew’s palm, and the wicked shapes of his lips and the slide of his tongue. Neil glanced up at him, and the meeting of their gazes sent a shot of want all down Andrew’s spine, pooling in his stomach and fizzing through his hands.

He started working over Andrew’s fingers, sucking them into his mouth one by one and swallowing the honey down with slow pulls of his throat. The wet, suckling noise it made sent shivers through Andrew’s body, and he was vaguely aware of want shuddering through him, desire pulsing with his shortened breath. When Neil had finally sucked off the last traces of honey, he gave a shuddering sigh that fluttered irresistibly over Andrew’s damp skin. He could feel himself getting hard, but couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the quietly serene expression on Neil’s face as he laid gentle, worshipful kisses to Andrew’s now-clean hand.

Neil was leaning closer, soft pants emerging from his slick lips, and Andrew felt his heart thud painfully in his chest. Neil had just started to lick over his fingertips again with a distracted kind of enjoyment, when Andrew pulled his hand back. Neil gave him a vaguely reproachful look, but his expression wiped clean again as Andrew dipped his fingers back into the honey jar, scooping out a generous gobbet of stickiness.

Andrew raised his smeared fingers to Neil’s mouth, admiring the sheen of the honey against his skin, and slowly trailed them over Neil’s parted lips. He left a sticky smear there and held his fingers just away from Neil’s lips as he leaned closer, tongue wetting his sticky lips.

“Are you getting off on this?” Andrew asked in a gravelly tone, unable to disguise the want in his voice.

“Kinda,” Neil admitted quietly. “Are you?”

Andrew nodded shortly, watching how Neil’s eyes were focussed on his fingers, held teasingly away from his mouth. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil replied immediately, trying and failing to resist the need to lick his lips. Andrew rested his other arm tightly around Neil’s hips, pulling him flush to his own body and tugging at his hip until they were pressed together. He could feel Neil’s half-hard cock pressed up against his thigh through their sweatpants, and knew Neil could feel him too. Judging by his quiet little moan, he was enjoying this just as much as Andrew.

He moved his hand down until he could grab hold of Neil’s firm, gorgeous ass and pulled harder, rolling them against each other.

“Yes,” Neil moaned quietly, his tongue darting out to catch the trickle of honey from Andrew’s fingertips. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Andrew murmured, and pushed his sticky fingers gently into Neil’s mouth, watching with rapt attention as Neil sucked on them with a slow, sensuous devotion even as their hips lazily pushed and ground together, desire surging through them both.

Neil gave a shuddering moan and sucked Andrew’s fingers deeper, closing his lips around Andrew’s knuckles. His tongue swirled insistently over and between the fingers in his mouth, little dribbles of honey escaping to trickle over his chin. Andrew tilted his head to kiss them away, and immediately saw the appeal. The honey was slick and smooth over Neil’s warm skin, growing more liquid and runny the longer it stayed on his body. The sweetness danced on his tongue, while the stickiness gave a challenge and an urgency to the work of his mouth in cleaning it away. He chased a trickle down Neil’s throat and felt him shudder.

He had the vague thought that he wanted to smear honey all over Neil’s chest and suck it off, when Neil gave a frustrated sort of sound, his tongue probing at the crease between Andrew’s fingers. Andrew looked up and realised his hand was clean again – well, clean of honey. He withdrew his fingers with a regretful slowness, and they gave a shockingly wet sound as they slipped free of Neil’s demanding lips. Neil’s hips stuttered in their lazy roll, so Andrew squeezed his ass tighter and pulled him into a faster rhythm, the friction of the grind a satisfying frustration against the easy suck and kiss of his mouth.

Andrew dipped his hand back into the jar, gathering as much as possible of what remained over his fingers. He held Neil’s gaze as he pressed three fingers, this time, to his tacky lips. Neil groaned wordlessly and sucked them into his mouth with relish, suckling eagerly and panting. Andrew watched breathless as the motion of Neil’s tongue pushed some honey out from his slack mouth again, spilling over and dripping down to his throat and Andrew’s waiting kisses.

Fuck, it was ten kinds of sloppy, but Andrew couldn’t help but respond to the lustful kissing and sucking over his fingers, and the gorgeous sight of Neil getting messy and desperate as they rocked together, honey and saliva getting smeared over his cheeks and chin, small beads falling back down Andrew’s wrist as Neil tried to take his fingers as deep as he could. And fuck, but he was getting close to coming, and knew Neil must be too from how needily he was rolling his hips and making quiet, urgent moans shuddering through him.

To his surprise, Neil came first, apparently overcome by so much unexpected stimulation. He cried out around Andrew’s fingers and slumped into Andrew, making quiet grunts and groans as he rode out the aftershocks. And still, he kept searching for honey over Andrew’s hand.

“Fuck,” Andrew whispered as he held Neil close, unbearably on the edge of his own release, watching Neil lavish his hand with adoration. Neil glanced at him and let his fingers slip out of his mouth, wet and hot. He pressed his sticky mouth to that sensitive spot on Andrew’s neck and sucked  _hard_.

It rushed over Andrew like a wave – sudden and harsh and all-consuming. He choked out a gasp and clutched hard at Neil’s ass, shaking as he came in white-hot jolts of pleasure. Neil hummed his approval and kissed and sucked over Andrew’s neck, smearing honey there from his own messy face, holding Andrew’s arm steady. He pulled back a little as Andrew tried to catch his breath, then started kissing the honey away from there as well.

Andrew shuddered, caught between the come-down and vague interest trying to stir again. He dangled there at the power of Neil’s clever, unbearable mouth until he found a solution by simply pushing his fingers in Neil’s mouth again. Neil made a surprised sound, then hummed contentedly. He suckled for a moment, lingering, before pulling back out of Andrew’s space.

For a few minutes, as they fought for breath, they couldn’t quite look at each other, both a bit surprised and a little embarrassed by how turned-on they had got from just a bit of honey and kissing. Neil spoke first, a pretty flush to his face.

“I really enjoyed that,” he murmured, his voice a little rough. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Andrew agreed in a shaky sigh. “You too.”

He managed to look at Neil again and was caught off-guard by the expression of sweet contentment he found, marred a little with the occasional smear across his cheeks. Neil smiled at him, sweet and pleased and beautiful.

“Do you think we could do that again sometime?” Neil asked hesitantly as they stood under the shower together shortly thereafter, his tongue trailing over his kiss-swollen lips.

Andrew ran a hand down his side and imagined kissing honey off every scar on Neil’s body, off his ass or thighs, or having Neil paint it all over his neck and kiss it clean again with a trail of hickeys…

He swallowed hard enough to make his throat click.

“We’re going to need a lot more honey, then.” 


	41. Out & About

Prompt for andreil being publicly affectionate after coming out in the pros, original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/170716568598/your-writing-is-amazing-a-like-my-favorite-thing#notes). Vague warnings for closeting and crowd-related anxiety.

* * *

 

Andrew sighed pointedly as he pulled on an overlarge jersey in the Houston Sirens colours, with K DAY-MULDANI emblazoned on the back.

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” Neil grinned, in a matching jersey. “We’re proud of him, remember?”

“This is going to cause a spectacle,” Andrew predicted as he pushed the giant sleeves up to his elbows. “Especially considering our news last week.”

“I don’t really care,” Neil said in a blatant lie. “Kevin’s team is in town and we are going to support him. Fuck the press.”

“Why isn’t that your tagline on Twitter?”

“I don’t want them to think too highly of themselves,” Neil sniffed, then lightly caught at Andrew’s tense fingers. “Are you really okay with it?”

Andrew looked down to their hands, fingers automatically slotting together with years of familiarity. He rubbed his thumb gently over an old, silvery burn scar on Neil’s knuckle. “Yes,” he said quietly. “At least one of the rumours about me is true, this time.”

“Same,” Neil smiled and lightly swung their hands together. “Ready to go?”

“I can’t persuade you to just turn up at half-time, can I?”

“Nope,” Neil said happily as he grabbed the car keys.

When they found a parking spot at the stadium, Andrew stared out at the milling crowds and ground his teeth. He had rarely sat in the stands of an Exy game, but he remembered how loud and overwhelming it had been the last few times. He’d gone back into practice with relief afterwards, revelling in just how much sheer  _sound_  the plexiglass blocked out, how the box insulated the players from the audience.

“Hey,” Neil said, drawing his attention back. “I’m right here too.”

Their hands found each other again as they joined the crowds streaming towards the entrances. Andrew found himself gripping tighter and tighter as they entered the crush at the gates and struggled through the mass of bodies milling about the food and merch stalls in the outer ring, and queueing for the toilets.

“Do you want a burger?” Neil asked, lips close to Andrew’s ear in an effort to be heard. Andrew could recognise the bribery easily; their nutritionist would be very annoyed if he broke his diet, but in his defense he’d been keeping to it for nearly three months now. He hadn’t even had any sweets or ice cream. He had been craving something unhealthy recently, and the cravings always got worse with stress. But he had to admit, he had been feeling better with the stricter diet, more clear in his head and settled in his body.

“Vegetarian,” he compromised.  “With chilli fries.”

Neil kissed under his ear and pulled him through the throng towards the burger stand. As they waited in line, Andrew asked for and gained permission to slip his hand into Neil’s back pocket, holding him close. It settled the anxiety and danger warnings going off in his head to be so surrounded and trapped in the crowd. Neil’s presence was a firebrand and a balm at the same time – a reminder he was safe, and that he didn’t have to deal with this alone. Plus, he had a beautiful ass, and Andrew liked to hold beautiful things.

His over-alert senses picked up on unsubtle whispers behind them, and the muted clicks of camera phones. He could feel his shoulders tensing up –  _people were watching, people were staring, they’d kept it quiet for so long, it was none of their business…_

Neil casually settled an arm over Andrew’s shoulders, his fingers passing over his hair in a fleeting touch. Andrew glanced at his face; Neil wasn’t entirely comfortable with the attention either, but neither of them acknowledged it and kept their faces forward, waiting for their turn to order, holding each other for security.

“Let’s get a seat,” Andrew suggested once they’d got their food and pulled out of the line. Neil agreed quickly and they held hands and food tightly as they fought through everyone to get to the stands entrances, checking their tickets for the right entrance letter. The security guy on door duty did somewhat of a double take when he realised who was in front of him, but he stayed professional about it and simply directed them to the right area. Andrew nodded vaguely to him in appreciation for not making a scene.

They found their seats and sat down with a shared sigh. The stands were only about half-full, with most people busy in the outer ring still; there was about half an hour until serve. They wolfed down their food and shared a soda Neil had picked up.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Neil said encouragingly.

Andrew hummed, his eyes trying to track the hundreds of people moving around in the stands, getting into their seats and shuffling around. He was starting to get lost in all the movement when Neil gently took his hand again, tethering him. Andrew squeezed his fingers twice, an old signal by now for  _thank you._  Neil squeezed back and stated rattling off stats and possible strategies for both teams. Although Andrew knew it all just as well, he listened anyway. He liked listening to Neil talk, and now that he  _could_  talk about things other than Exy, Andrew didn’t mind the occasional junkie conversation. Neil looked over the moon when Andrew joined in his speculations about strategy, putting in his own opinion on what the score might be.

“Do you want to bet on it?”

“For what stakes?” Andrew asked and leaned back in his seat, starting to relax despite all the crowds.

“Loser has to deal with the cat litter for two weeks.”

Andrew felt his eye twitch; he hated it when it was his turn to do that. “Deal.”

Neil grinned and was about to reply when they were interrupted by a few fans, wanting to know if  _holy shit, is it really Josten and Minyard?_  Andrew watched Neil deal with them; he was brutal with the press, but generally polite enough with fans unless they crossed a line. The temptation to pull their hands apart was like a nicotine burn, but Andrew resisted. He kept hold of Neil’s hand and ignored as best he could the frequent glances, as the fans weren’t quite brave enough to breach the topic that had been in all the Exy headlines for the past week.  _Secret Relationship Revealed! Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard Long-Term Partners_.

He still didn’t believe in regret, and indeed he did not regret making their announcement. They’d both had enough of the years of insinuations and nosy reporters asking them both about their love/sex lives, the wild online speculation that was part and parcel of being a semi-famous celebrity, the constant guessing about which female celebrity Neil Josten was hooking up with now, putting up with years of ignorant and unwelcoming teammates and team staff who constantly advised him not to come out, and never to talk about this relationship that had brought so much meaning to them both over the past ten years. They had had enough. 

Soon enough everyone would move on, their teammates would stop looking shocked and asking too many personal questions, and the public would move onto the next scandal. The intermediate period was uncomfortable, though. Neither of them had ever enjoyed being in the spotlight, and had always kept their relationship very private even from their friends and family.

And now the whole sporting world knew.

It would take some getting used to; but – Andrew thought as he watched Neil softly smile at the fan who congratulated him on coming out – it was worth it.

“Okay?” Neil checked in with him as the small crowd found their seats and the announcers told everyone that serve was in ten minutes.

“Yes,” Andrew replied, and gently pulled Neil closer until he could kiss that pretty mouth one more time. Neil melted into him and stroked through his hair as they kissed, slow and gentle and secure. There was a sudden chorus of whoops, lights, and hammy voices over the tannoy and Andrew knew they had been put onto an impromptu Kiss Cam thing for the whole stadium to watch – but he didn’t care.

This is the man I will spend my life with, he thought as he tuned out the crowd and concentrated on the soft slide of Neil’s lips. And now everyone knows. No more secrets. No more hiding. Just a life, and a home.


	42. This Is Not Pining

Prompt for andreil pining in the period after Andrew graduates and Neil is still at PSU, original [here](http://spanglebangle.tumblr.com/post/170730794873/maybe-a-random-fluffy-moment-in-the-sunshine#notes). Light angst.

* * *

 

Andrew closed the front door behind himself and sagged against it in exhaustion. His head was still pounding and ringing from the stress of the match and the noisy press bit afterwards, never mind being escorted out of the stadium through the reporters and fans to get to his car. His arms pulsed hotly in time to his erratic heartbeat and his hands sent jolts of pain up to his shoulders when he tried to flex them. His legs were better, but soreness was worked into the muscles of his thighs and ass and lower back from the wide squat that goalies had to adopt, for maximum coverage and reaction time. He dropped his heavy kit-and-clothes bag and fumbled off his shoes.

Thankfully, his roommate Darren was out for the night; he was another newbie on the team, and management had suggested they room together seeing as they had both moved to Boston for the team, and knew no one else in the city. It was going okay so far; it helped that they had the same schedule. They mostly kept out of each other’s way at home, though Andrew could tolerate watching TV together or a movie every so often. He knew himself, and he knew isolation would be a fast way to regress and go back on years of progress, so he knew that the roommate situation was actually good for him. It reminded him almost comfortingly of his years at PSU, and wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The similar routine was good, though. It kept things simple.

And with Darren staying at his girlfriend’s place tonight (Andrew knew entirely too much about what they were planning on doing, courtesy of some locker-room babble, ugh), the place was all Andrew’s.

It was dark and quiet, the fridge and TV humming almost inaudibly. Darren’s fish burbled in their tank, which made the room glow a pale blue from the lighting under it. He debated going for another shower – he’d had one in the locker room, but everything  _ached_  and he had been working hard in the gym and in practice, but it still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the onslaught of a professional rather than college team, and how much harder and more intense it would be. He hadn’t believed the coaches when they said it would be a major step-up and a huge adjustment. Now he thought they’d actually sugar-coated it for him.

He decided against the shower and picked up a tub of heat-balm from the bathroom instead as he made his way to his bedroom. He checked his phone as he changed into sweats and found a text from Neil. Instead of answering, he just started a call and put it on speaker as he started lathering up his shoulders with the heat-balm.

“Andrew!” Neil picked up, sounding slightly breathless from hundreds of miles away. “We watched your game, you were brilliant tonight.”

Andrew snorted quietly and rubbed his fingers firmly into his shoulder joints. “I should have known.”

“Of course we were going to watch your first match as a professional player,” Neil protested. “I made everyone watch it in the lounge at court. You did great.”

Andrew sighed quietly as the balm began to burn into his sore muscles, leaving a pleasant tingling sensation that took away a lot of the pain.

“What was it like?” Neil asked, almost hungrily. “Playing with professionals?”

Andrew cut the phone a pointed look, but Neil obviously couldn’t see it. “Challenging,” he replied after a minute. “Brutal. But… satisfying. You’ll like it, when you graduate.”

“If anyone scouts me,” Neil mumbled with an undercurrent of anxiety.

“They will. They’d be idiots not to. And then our teams can compete and I’ll wipe the floor with your ass,” Andrew promised.

Neil laughed quietly on the other end of the line. “I guess we’ll have to see about that. Did you go out with your team after?”

“No, I was too tired. I’m home now, on my own.”

“Where’s Darren?”

“Girlfriend.”

“Ah.” There was a vague tapping as if Neil were fiddling with something. “You really were magnificent tonight, Andrew. It was an amazing match to watch. I’m proud of you. Wymack and Abby and Betsy all said to pass on their congratulations, too.”

Andrew tried to ignore the squeeze of warmth between his lungs, as if he’d swallowed the whole pot of balm. He finished rubbing it into his shoulders and lay down on his stomach, placing the phone beside him on the pillow. If he closed his eyes, it was almost like Neil were here too.

“It felt strange, playing without you on court,” Andrew admitted quietly. “I almost did our usual trick before I remembered no one would be able to catch it.”

Neil hummed quietly, no doubt thinking of the manoeuvre that had almost been patented as ‘the Minyard-Josten toss’ – where Andrew would smack the ball way up-court, almost to the other goal, for Neil to catch mid-air and twist into a shot on goal before his feet touched the ground. They’d gotten very good at it, much to the chagrin of their opponents in Andrew’s final year.

“It’s lonely down here,” Neil offered back, in a small voice. “I feel all on my own.”

“You’ve got Robin, surely. And Wymack, Abby and Bee.”

“I know, I know. But it’s not the same as having everyone here. Everyone’s gone off to start their careers and I’m left behind.”

“Nobody has left you behind, Neil. It’s just for one year, anyway.”

“I know,” Neil sighed again. There was a rustling as if he were getting settled in bed too. “It already feels way too long since you moved away.”

Andrew silently agreed; it had been only four months since graduation and starting summer conditioning with his team, but it felt like so much longer. He and Neil had been texting, calling, Skyping, the lot, as regularly as they could to manage the distance after literal years of always being near, living in the same dorm for three years. The first week had been the worst, and they were managing okay now with a regular schedule of calls, but… it was still pretty bad.

“I could do with you being here,” he said eventually, playing for nonchalance. “I’ve got a killer backache.”

“And you want a massage, huh?” Neil asked in a lighter voice.

“Obviously. It’s not like I’m going to let the team physical therapist near me. I need your poky little fingers to sort it out for me.”

Neil huffed and Andrew could almost see the fond look in his eyes. “I wish I could be there, too. I miss you a lot.”

“Are you still coming up for Thanksgiving, or do you have captain stuff to do?”

“Unless one of these jackasses lands themselves in prison, I’ll be coming,” Neil promised. “I’ll fly out as soon as classes finish, I already cleared it with Wymack.”

“Good,” Andrew replied quietly. “Darren said he’ll be with his family, so we’ll have the apartment to ourselves.”

Neil sighed, a little shake in his breath. Andrew could recognise the undertones of want and sadness very easily; he felt much the same way.

“I miss you so much,” Neil mumbled, his voice tight and choked. “Honestly I don’t even care about sex or anything when I come up – I just want to see you and hold your hand and lay down together again.”

Andrew let himself imagine it for a painful minute – welcoming Neil to the apartment, kissing him stupid, holding him and touching his bare skin again as they talked and soaked each other in, falling asleep tucked up together in bed, waking up warm and interlocked…

He had to stop before he had the urge to smash something with the sharp ache of  _wanting_. Neil had snuck up on him in life, had burrowed in deep before Andrew knew to rip him out, and now there was no getting rid. Not that Andrew wanted that, at all. If anything, he wanted Neil to burrow deeper and never leave.

“It’ll be November soon enough,” he said, a little raggedy around the edges. “And we can Skype on Monday night after you finish practice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A yawn interrupted him, and he was aware once again of how sore and exhausted his body was from the game.

“You should get some rest,” Neil said.

“Mmn.”

“You were brilliant, Andrew,” Neil said again. “Really, really brilliant.”

“Okay.”

“Sleep well. I’m gonna hang up now.”

He did not.

“Talk to you tomorrow,” Andrew said quietly, his fingers lingering on the disconnect button but not quite able to press it. “Sweet dreams, Neil.”

“Yeah, you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

It was about ten minutes before they managed to end their call, and Andrew pulled all his covers over his head in an effort to block out the sting of missing him. November would come fast enough, he reminded himself. Until then, they would just have to put up with the distance as best they could.


End file.
